


Pity the Living

by dreamstates



Series: Scattered Ashes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Durmstrang, Durmstrang Institute, England (Country), France (Country), Germany, Pre-Canon, Riddle at Hogwarts Era, Russia, War with Grindelwald, World War II, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16972800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamstates/pseuds/dreamstates
Summary: When a strange young man came knocking at Wool's Orphanage in 1936, offering a young girl a place at Durmstrang Institute of Magic, Tom and Gisela's questions were answered. However, being two years apart and different nationalities creates complications.They had survived the Great Depression together, but faced with the challenge of separation and a continent at war between them, will the magical orphans make it out alive? Or will the Second World War and Grindelwald's reign of terror rip them apart?ORA historically accurate and psychologically realistic take on Tom Riddle's childhood, and the impact the presence of an older magical friend would have on his character.© All Rights Reserved 2018





	1. Prologue

**New Years Day, 1932.**

**_London._ **

Dusk was approaching, the bitterly cold air seeping into the stone walls of the poorly built houses of the east end of London, but the usual celebratory events for the dawn of the new year were not present for the arrival of 1932. The streets of were quiet, the pubs half-empty and the streets crawling with homeless people sheltering under shop awnings to hide from the cold. The roads were empty, covered with a thick layer of snow, that was more of a brown colour than white, due to the dark sky thick with factory and coal smoke.

Two children came running down the street; both dressed in what looked like a few rags sewn together, with their little feet bare to freeze in the snow. They were holding a sack full of food, mainly consisting of leftover hams and turkeys from the bins on the other side of the Thames river, where the wealthy bathed in the tax of the poor. They had been running for an hour, trying to grab what they could before their feet froze off. Most would call it suicidal, but the young girl of seven was determined for her younger friend, a boy of five, to live through the next week. They would not die like the newborn babe's that arrived at the beginning of the winter.

The climbed the stairs, their little toes almost frozen off, and silently slipped back into the doors of the large building - an old warehouse converted into the biggest orphanage in the East End, that was still overcrowded. The fatal market crash had left too many children abandoned for the city to cope with. They sneaked up to their shared room, careful to no awaken the matron or any snitching children. Thankfully, most slept in the large dining hall-turned-dormitory, but the two children had the benefit of being born here many years ago and were granted the tiny room to share long ago. Boys and girls weren't supposed to share rooms, but the matron didn't have much choice with the number of orphans increasing.

Locking the door behind them, with a doorstop they stole from a shop, the quickly emptied their sack onto the table. They divided the food into 'storable' and 'not storable', putting most of the meats on their window sill outside, where it would remain frozen naturally. Other food, such as cakes, they hid in their cupboard away from the rats. If the matron had discovered that they had left the building, let alone travelled across London to steal food, they would be in for a beating and a week in the attic. Even a day in the attic was terrible enough, but anything would be worth the proper food they got their hands on.

"Gisela, can I have some cake?" asked the little boy, visibly shivering.

"Of course, get the fire going Tom," she replied, grabbing the rich chocolate treat from the cupboard.

The little boy approached the fireplace, grabbing the two dry sticks, only for the fire to immediately start, making him jump back in fright. This wasn't the first time this strange occurrence had happened. He piled the sticks onto the fire, while his friend grabbed their thin woollen blanket - also stolen - off their small wooden table the made for a bed. Curling up by the fire, where they would sleep tonight, they feasted their little fingers into the rich food - far nicer than the slop they ate for their two meals a day from the orphanage.

As they fell asleep, curled up sharing warmth by the fire, their cake wrappers burning in the fire to erase any sign of its existence, they dreamed of a real bed and good food. But late in the night, when the light died out, they woke to the shock of the cold, and the little boy curled into the girl's body seeking warmth.

"You know, Gisela, one day I'm going to be rich and powerful, and we're going to eat what we want and sleep in real beds, and I'm going to punish everyone who ever made us hungry and cold," huffed Tom, his high-pitched voice sounding surprisingly dark as he stared into the dying embers in front of him.

"And how are we going to become rich? Tom, you know once we're fifteen you're off to the docks, and I'm going into service," sighed the older girl, who refused to dream of the impossible.

"I'll never work in the docks or the workhouse, Gisela, I don't know how I'm going to get the power, but I know I will. And they'll all be sorry," he growled.

"It's a man's world Tom, you may succeed, but what about me?" she questioned, tightening her hold on him from behind as she spooned him.

"I'll make sure you live the life I deserve - we both deserve - Gisela, I promise," he replied, and with no reply, he closed his eyes and drifted off into his dreams.

Two years passed before the children finally got their own bed. It was hard and squeaky, with barely a mattress, but at least it wasn't the hard table, that they could now use as a desk. The first night in their new bed was the best sleep both children could ever remember. The newly appointed matron, Mrs Cole, had tried to separate them - as new policy forced the genders apart - but she gave in after a deal was struck that involved stolen whiskey. There was more food after the Depression's end, but it was still the disgusting slop the malnourished children were raised on, so the children continued to raid the rubbish bins of the west side in the night; but only during the summers. Their feet had suffered enough running on icy nights.

They had only been caught once, but the two children would remember it forever. It was a year ago; they hadn't been fed for two days, and in desperation left in daylight to rummage the bins, only to be dragged back to the orphanage by the drill sergeant, who had been introduced to start training the older boys for the armed forces. Gisela could still see the faint cane marks on her arms, which would hopefully fade with time, but Tom would likely have the lashes on his back for the rest of his life.


	2. A Strange Man

**July 1936.**

**_London._ **

No one noticed when a young man appeared out of thin air on the street, walking determinedly towards the entrance of the orphanage, in a fine suit that no doubt cost more than the price of the entire orphanage's clothing ration combined. He had short blonde hair slicked to the side, with piercing blue eyes that observed his surroundings critically. His hands were in his pocket, fiddling with a carved stick hidden out of sight. A thin layer of sweat formed under his suit, and it became apparent to the man that perhaps England wasn't as cold year round as it was made out to be. The July sun created a blanket of heat over the city, forcing hundreds of children out of their homes to play football in the parks. Having tracked his intended target for hours, he had expected to find the girl with a family of immigrated Wizards; not in the disgusting sight before him, located in the most ghastly area of the city.

What on earth was a girl from German Wizarding descent doing in a Muggle orphanage in London?

He approached the small building, walked through the large gate and past the crowd of children playing in the courtyard. He couldn't believe the dozens and dozens of children could all fit into the falling-apart structure before him. Meanwhile, the children had frozen and stared wide-eyed at the visitor. It wasn't often a rich man visited the orphanage, but if they did, it was usually for the wrong reasons. One child from the nearby orphanage went home one day with a wealthy older man and was found floating in the Thames a week later.

He knocked on the door, coming face to face with a very unattractive woman, who stared up and down, rather unsubtly, at the handsome man before her. She immediately hustled him inside.

"What can I help you with, sir?" she smirked, leading him into her office, which was littered with a rather large collection of cheap brandy. Her hips swayed in what he assumed was supposed to be a seductive motion, but only made her appear more of a fool.

"I am a Professor from a prodigious school in Germany, and I have been sent to fetch a young girl who has been registered to the school since her birth. Her name is Gisela," he replied. The matron froze and narrowed her eyes at his foreign accent.

"Are you one of Hitler's dogs?" sneered the woman, her demeanour changing instantly. The man raised his eyebrows at her but continued. "I don't care what the newspapers say. No anti-Semitic should be allowed to host the Olympics."

"Our school has no affiliation with the Nazis, but of course we support our Führer," he replied smoothly, putting his hands in his suit pockets.

"The girl doesn't have a surname, but you expect me to believe this story? I know what you people think of people like me. You're trying to take her back to your country of racists."

"I most certainly am not. I have no predisposition to hate Jews. Now, may I ask your name?" he answered smoothly, hiding his growing frustration.

"It's Mrs Cole to you, now -" her angry face turned blank suddenly, making the man smirk.

"You will show me to the girl now," he said.

"I will show you to the girl."

"Good, thank you, Mrs Cole. Lead the way," he motioned, and she walked animatedly out of her office and in the direction of the narrow stairs.

He followed her up, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet as he stared around in disgust at his surroundings. The place was half falling apart, with holes in the walls and collapsed stairs on the way up to the second floor. At least there was no dirt, but he assumed that was because the dreadful woman made the children run the place rather than herself. He shivered at the thought of growing up in a hellhole like this.

She led him past a large opening in the hallway, full of broken bunk beds with two or three children playing on a single bed. He looked in horror at the sight, as the children stared back at him with either scared or desperate eyes, but quickly moved on down the narrow hallway, where a door lay at the very end.

"Gisela, there is a man here to see you," the matron said, knocking sharply.

What surprised him was that the person who opened the door wasn't a girl at all, but a small boy with cold dark eyes, glaring at them both.

"I'm not leaving you alone with her," he muttered callously, opening the door reluctantly to reveal a young girl with white blonde hair and startling blue eyes, staring at him with uncertainty from her place on the small thin bed. She looked oddly familiar.

"That will be all, matron," he said, making her nod emotionlessly and walked back down the hallway. The young boy went to the girl's side on the bed, wrapping a protective arm around her. He quickly understood there was no way of getting rid of the boy without scaring the girl, so he would just have to alter his memory when he was finished.

"Hello Gisela, may I have a seat?" he asked, but only received a small nod.

"Why are you here?" demanded the younger boy, looking at him with obvious suspicion.

"I am here to speak to Gisela about a special school in Germany she's been accepted to. It's called Durmstrang Institute, and it's for children with special abilities."

"In  _Germany?_  Are they sending me to a madhouse, Tom?" she asked, looking terrified as she made eye contact with her furious friend.

" _We're not mad!_ " growled the younger boy, making the man raise his eyebrows with intrigue.

"It certainly is not a madhouse. Tell me, Gisela, have you ever been able to do things you can't explain? Like make things fly without touching them?" he asked, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Well... um... yes. Tom can too," she replied, grabbing her friends hand tightly. The man moved his eyes curiously to the boy, noticing that both he and the girl had their minds locked tight - an almost impossible feat at such a young age.

"Is that so? Tell me, how old are you, Tom?" he asked.

"I'm nine."

"Ah, that explains things. In the Wizarding World, children usually start school at eleven. So you will have to wait another two years before you start," he smiled.

"The  _what_  world?" exclaimed both children.

"The Wizarding World. Gisela, you are a witch, and I assume Tom here is a Wizard," he replied, amused at the children's reactions.

"Prove it," they exclaimed in perfect sync.

He chuckled, pulling the long carved stick out of his pocket and waving it silently at a little box on the desk. It immediately began to rise, twirling in circles, before setting back down. The children's eyes widened, and they both smiled with glee.

"When can we learn that?" the boy demanded.

"You will learn that in your first year at school. I assume though, Tom, as you are English you will attend Hogwarts, the British Wizarding school, rather than Durmstrang," he replied.

"But why can't he come to... Durmstrang?" asked Gisela, frowning at the thought of being separated from her friend.

"I'm afraid that's just how it works, Gisela. You go to whatever school you are registered to, based on your parentage. I must say, it is odd to find you here - you are the only young German witch in England. I travelled a long way to collect you," he replied, trying to reassure the children, but they still looked bothered by the thought of separation. "No need to be so worrisome, you can send letters by owls to each other to stay in contact."

" _Owls?_ " asked the girl with disbelief.

"Yes, owls. Tell me, Gisela, do you speak German?" he asked.

"Yes - Tom and I both learnt it in school. We were always better than the other students. I have an accent though, and I haven't spoken in a while," she replied.

"Nothing to worry about," he replied, "we have a three-week journey ahead of us, so I can help you brush up on it. It's not too much of a worry; there are people from lots of places in Central and Eastern Europe at Durmstrang. Mainly Germans, Bulgarians, and Hungarians - so there are quite a few languages that go around. We teach in German, however, so obviously, that is most important. Other places in more Western Europe go to the French school Beauxbatons, mainly students from France, Spain and Belgium. Russia has Koldovstoretz, America has Ilvermorny, and I know there are a few others. And of course, the British and Irish go to Hogwarts."

The children soaked up all the information, fascinated at the prospect of such a vast world they belonged to.

"So it's  _magic_ , what we can do?" asked Tom.

"Yes, magic."

"Can everyone do the same magic?" asked Gisela.

"Yes, if they put the effort in, of course. Some Wizards are naturally more powerful than others, but that is usually genetics or talent, and even then hard work is needed. You'll spend seven years at school before pursuing magical careers," he replied.

" But Tom can speak to snakes and I can't. Does that mean he's more talented?" she asked, although appeared surprisingly unbothered by the idea of being inferior to her friend. The man freezes, his eyebrows raised in surprise; this boy was certainly unusual.

"Being able to speak to snakes doesn't relate to power or talent, although some people fear that it is a sign of dark magic - which is ignorant, of course. Parseltongue is purely genetic, so obviously one of your parents inherited the gene," he replied, making the young boy ecstatic.

"So that means at least one of my parents was magical?!"

"Yes, and you as well Gisela. Unlike Hogwarts, Durmstrang only accepts students from at least partial magical descent, so you must have magical genes," he replied, "but enough talk, for now, you need to pack your things, Gisela. We have a long journey ahead of us. I will pick you up at seven o'clock this evening for our journey to France."

"I have no money for anything though," she replied, as though he were stupid.

"No worries, I will be funding your travel and school supplies. Just a quick question - you don't have a surname? Do you know anything about your family?" he asked curiously.

"My mother left me on the doorstep. All she said in her note was that my name is Gisela, my father's name is Gellert, and to keep me away 'the hell away from him'," she replied, making the man freeze. It became obvious instantly; the name, the white hair, the big blue eyes and the high cheekbones. 

"There's quite a few Wizards called Gellert... I even have a cousin with that name... perhaps you can research it Durmstrang. Best not tell anyone about your parentage, though," he said, playing with his fingers.

"Ok," she says disinterested, "before you leave sir, what should I call you?"

"My official title is Professor Grindelwald - but everyone calls me Professor Klaus as not to confuse me with my cousin, who is a rather...  _well known_ wizard."

*

The two children sat curled up on their bed, watching the time tick by on the stolen clock on the window sill, the little boy tapping his feet nervously on the floor. It felt like the longest few hours of their lives. Gisela had gathered what little she owned, excluding what she shared with Tom, and placed her belongings in an old drawstring bag provided by the matron. She was wearing her best dress, one of the three she owned, but it still made her look so obviously poor and malnourished. While her friend was waiting anxiously for their inevitable separation, she was busy trying to fix the broken buckle on her shoe. The tapping of the boy's feet only got louder, so she gave up on the shoe, dropped her foot off the bed and practically tackled her friend into a tight hug. It wasn't long until they were both crying - an emotion almost never displayed by both children.

"I don't want you to leave," sobbed Tom.

"I don't want to leave either, but long-term this is the right thing to do. We could make money in this world, and not have to hide in the shadows," she sniffled back.

"You have to promise you'll come back for me," he replied, his crying subsiding into a harsh demand.

"Of course, I will  _never_  leave you. I'll be home next year, I will reply to every letter, I will send you whatever I know, and I will bring home presents," she insisted, still holding on tightly.

"Promise me," he begged, pouting with eyes filled with tears, the demand sounding more like a plea as his composure shattered.

"I promise," she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand tightly.

They both wiped their eyes and headed downstairs, ignoring the looks from the other children as they held hands tightly. It was a rare sight from Tom, who hated public affection, but he wanted to remind the man who was taking her away to Germany that she belonged to  _him_.

He waited at the bottom of the stairs, watching as the two children holding hands, slowly descending the flight of creaky stairs, the boy failing to disguise his annoyance and sadness with his red-rimmed eyes. His new student looked much the same but held her composure more as they said their silent goodbyes. He couldn't imagine the reason to why two magical children, both with magical parents, ended alone in a muggle orphanage. He would not be surprised if they developed a bond that was more than natural. He couldn't imagine the psychological damage to the children that stood before him, who were living borderline on the state of poverty that the muggle street children back home in Germany were living after the War and again after the crash.

She looked at her friend with uncertainty as she followed the man out the door, stepping over the threshold and reluctantly letting go of her little friend's hand. Her blue eyes met his dark eyes, and a thousand words were said in silence as she turned her back, leaving the crumbling orphanage and her young friend behind, her tiny shoes clicking against the concrete as she followed the man into a cab waiting for them. She had never been in a car before. The taxi driver appeared to be not entirely... there, strangely, in a way she could not figure out as she shuffled over to the ample seat in the back.

"Don't worry; I charmed him into forgetting all of this once we reach our destination," he said, shutting the door of the car, but she wasn't listening.

She locked eyes with her friend out the window, the last time for a long time.

_I will never leave you, Tommy._


	3. La Ville Lumiére

**July 1936.**

**_France._ **

_ Gisela _

She felt like a Princess in her new clothes. The dress she wore was red, her favourite colour, and made of the softest velvet she could imagine. Anyone who walked past the pair would assume they were a wealthy father and daughter. It reminded her of the rich girls she once saw gossiping in St James' park, who sneered down at the orphans, who were otherwise enjoying their first outing in years. She also remembers that the girls had suddenly slipped, mud covering their fancy attire after one of them had made a nasty comment about her. Odd, considering it had been a scorching hot day and the dirt was dry.

Professor Klaus had explained that German Wizarding fashion was more extravagant and modern than the English and that with a few ribbons in her hair and a cloak over her shoulder, she would look quite the witch. She was also told that from his area of Europe, muggles were far more frowned upon than in England, so she should always be dressed in the correct attire and never mention her past. He was oddly protective and gave her many gifts that would help her fit in, and she only wished she could get some for Tom. But she wasn't going to see her friend for a very long time.

The travel to the French shores was surprisingly short; the sea was still, and the ship was fast. They left at early morning and arrived well before midday. Gisela could count on one hand how many times she'd seen the vast ocean stretch out for miles, smelt the crisp salty air and heard the echo of seagulls by the shore, so she treasured the moment and observed as much as possible to include in the letter she planned to send to her friend. Thankfully, she had avoided the ghastly sea sickness many onboard had suffered from after the Professor gave her an odd tasting lolly to suck on.

They arrived in the coastal city of Calais, where they had quickly boarded a train to Paris. It was the first time Gisela had ever travelled on a proper train, having previously only snuck onto the London subways to go across town where the bins were filled with better food. She marvelled at the beautiful French countryside and little villages they travelled through, on their journey to the great capital. She couldn't comprehend how different the sight before her was, compared to the East End of London, the only other world she knew. Her admiration only grew as they approached Paris, the country turning into beautiful suburbs she could only dream of living in - until they suddenly disappeared into underground tunnels that led to the city centre.

As Gisela stepped onto the crowded platform at their destination, the  _Gare du Nord_  station, she held on tight to the Professor's hand, fearing what would happen if it slipped away and she was carried off into the seemingly endless crowd. Thankfully, it was only minutes before they exited the station and found themselves in the lobby of a small but luxury hotel near the train station. After the Professor checked them into their room, he insisted they visit the local  _boulangerie_  and try some of his favourite French treats. After some dangerously delicious treats and a long walk through the streets and parks of central Paris, Gisela quickly realised much had changed in Paris since the era in  _Les Miserables_ , a book that now appeared to fit the description more of the East End of London than the beautiful city of Paris.

After a short afternoon of fun, dusk appeared on the horizon, and they headed back to their hotel, a well-needed sleep needed after such a long day of travelling.

_Tommy,_

_I am writing now from Paris. The city is so beautiful and the food is delicious. The French have desserts filled with chocolate, custard and cream and I'm afraid my stomach will explode. The Professor is ever so kind, buying me new clothes that make me look like a rich girl and we are staying in the most delightful places with soft beds. I wish we could go to Paris all the time together for holidays. It is far more beautiful than London. Unfortunately, we have to leave tomorrow to train to Berlin. I am afraid of this Hitler man and the Nazis. I have read enough of the papers to know that he means no good, but at least they are hosting the Olympics right now so according to the Professor 'they have to behave'. Professor Klaus told me all about Wizarding travel._

_There are Portkeys: objects that you touch that make you transport from one place to another. There are broomsticks: you fly on them and there is a sport called Quidditch, but it sounds as stupid as football to me. Best of all, there is apparation: which is teleportation. You have to be older to learn the teleportation, and can even take people with you, but everything else I can do now. He then explained, however, that it was dangerous in Europe to use magical transportation as it was tracked, and he gave a rather vague explanation about some dark wizard. So alas, I must deal with a long journey._

_To be honest, I rather enjoy it though. I have seen so much of the world in just a few days. One day, we are going to travel across Europe together. My French is ok, but I let the Professor do the talking. He has been insistent on perfecting my German, so it sounds native, particularly for our journey through Germany. He says in Berlin we will enter the magical world to get my school supplies, and then take magical travel to Durmstrang, which is in a secret location. I wish you could be here with me, but I promise to send you lots of book excerpts and newspaper articles, and whatever else an owl can carry._

_This will be my only letter for a white, as I am not allowed to write once we enter Germany until we get to Durmstrang._

_With love,_

_Gisela._

*

The tall man strolled through the train station, his hand held the small child tightly in her velvet red dress, ignoring the subtle stares he received from the people who parted the crowd for him, fear or disgust hidden behind their blank faces as they continued with their daily lives pretending to ignore the prominent figure in the crowd. The ticket counter made no moves to request identification for the man and his child when they booked their passage from Paris to Berlin. He wore a dark navy uniform, with a red armband that clearly displayed the distinctive swastika and a hat upon his white hair with a small skull and crossbones displayed on the front. This was not a man to be crossed.

Gisela noticed as she sheltered behind his towering figure, that seemed so much taller in his uniform, the unmistakable aura of  _uncomfortableness_  that radiated off the people in the station as they made their way to the platform. But she knew she had to play the part. Her Professor had explained in great detail the events that would happen over the following few days, and the strict rules she had to follow. He had made it very clear the previous night.

"I do some work for...some important people...that involves infiltrating the muggle Nazis. You are playing my daughter, and you must play the part well. Thankfully we share similar traits, but I am setting a few rules you must follow for our safety," he started.

"Ok, Professor," she mumbled.

"Despite  _popular belief_ , muggles are incredibly dangerous. A bullet travels ten times faster than any spell, Gisela, so it is best to learn now before you gain an arrogance carried by many wizards;  _we are not all powerful_. Do not underestimate how dangerous muggles and their far more advanced technology can be. I know of many Wizards who made the mistake of believing they are invincible to these people and paid the price with their lives. No magic will save you if you have a bullet in your head. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," she replied, looking at him with wide eyes.

"From now you refer to me as 'papa'. You will speak German  _always_. Do not speak unless spoken to, and avoid conversation. Do not appear to be interested in anything anyone, including myself, is saying unless they or I am talking directly to you. Your 'mother' is dead if anyone asks. Act as affectionate as though I am your parent, even if you don't exactly know what that means. Pretend to be asleep for most of the trip, but whenever we change trains or leave our compartment for even a second, you hold my hand. Got it?"

"Yes, Profes-Papa," she replied, disguising the fear in her eyes with a small smile.

And so now she sat in first class, preparing for a long ride to Berlin, wringing her hands with nervousness as they sat in their private compartment, looking quite the pair. The first few hours were easy; Gisela spent her time reading the newspaper and eating delicious food on their way to the border of Germany. She and the Professor barely talked, unlike on their journey from England, but she didn't have to ask why. He seemed very uptight, always on the lookout for observers.

When the train approached the border, the Professor gathered their belongings, including her new trunk full of clothes and shoes, and ushered her off onto the platform. They now encountered their first obstacle; border control. Holding the Professor's hand, she looked around in awe at the swarm of men in different types of uniform, with a range of different colours and badges. Some were in a similar black to her Professors, but most were in a greenish grey or brown attire. She even spotted, out the corner of her eye, soldiers checking under the trains leaving Germany. Snapping out of her daze, she began to notice the attention both the Professor and herself were receiving. It was clear her escort must be quite the superior, as all the men stared - some even saluting - in respect as he made his way to the border check with her falsified papers.

They stopped in front of a man sitting on a small desk, one of many guards clearing travellers as they entered the country. He looked up, taking the papers from the Professor's hand and scanned over them quickly, not paying much attention to detail, before waving them through to the German end of the platform, where they would depart for Frankfurt. She gripped his hand tighter when their papers were checked once again at the entrance to the train, and again when they found their cabin. From first impressions, it seemed that the most common trait among Germans was suspicion.

They arrived in Frankfurt at dusk, where they transferred to an overnight train to Berlin, with two beds in their new cabin. Gisela was still shocked from the first night in Paris at how comfortable the beds were, the softest duvets cocooning her into the deepest of sleep, dreaming in a warmth she had never experienced before. Her mind often drifted to Tom, and everything she wanted to tell him about the world. As soon as she was allowed, she would send another detailed letter.

After the initial shock at the strict security of her homeland, she quickly began to admire the well-developed machine that was Nazi Germany, which appeared entirely different to how the English newspapers portrayed it as. The men smiled at her in their handsome uniforms on the train, while the children outside ran through the streets with good clothes and proper shoes, with very little sign of poverty - a stark difference from the place she grew up. She gazed out the window with jealousy at the children of the countryside, thinking about the life she could have had if... whatever circumstances... didn't happen. Germany may not have been as exotic as France, but it held its own beauty. Tom would love it here too.

They arrived in Berlin early afternoon, Professor Klaus appearing more and more anxious as the clock ticked by. He quickly led her off the train and through the crowded station, which was far smaller than the one in Frankfurt, having exited the train in a more modest station outside the centre city. He approached a red brick wall beside a public toilet, that appeared perfectly inconspicuous, until she was suddenly dragged straight  _through_  the wall and into a dark tunnel, still holding her Professor's hand tight.

"Profes-Papa?" she asked, concerned as to why he looked so nervous.

"Nothing to worry about," he breathed, after sending a long ball of light from his wand down the tunnel, "this is a short-cut to the Wizarding World - to avoid any  _complications_  we may run into. You can call me Professor again unless we are in the Muggle world."

"Ok, sir, do I still need to speak in German?" she asked.

"Yes - always," he said sternly, "now, let's go and get your school supplies. We take a portkey to Durmstrang at dusk."


	4. Benson and Billy

**August 1936.**

_**London.** _

_ Tom _

The nights were colder for Tom Riddle. Despite the summer air providing a pleasant temperature, he felt as though he would freeze without the comfort of Gisela. He watched the window with desperation every day and night waiting to receive another letter, praying she hadn't left him all alone in this misery. Her first letter had arrived only a few days after her departure, and the shock of being woken up in the middle of the night to an  _owl_  tapping on the window had quickly been replaced with excitement. He dreamed that night of the beauty and food of Paris she had described, and how they would be able to  _teleport_  to each other when they were older. Thankfully, this Professor Klaus sounded as though he could be trusted, and Gisela was clearly in safe hands.

Unfortunately, her departure proved the perfect opportunity for the stupid bastards in the orphanage to start picking on Tom more and more. Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were particularly horrible. The nasty little bitch had made it her mission to make Tom feel as though he had been abandoned, mostly out of jealousy - she had to share a bed in the big dormitory while he had his own room. She dragged the weak puppy Dennis into her antics as well.

"Oh look, it's the freak, Riddle. Tell me, Riddle, how does it feel to know the German bastard has abandoned you to go be Hitler's lapdog?" she smirked, looking down from her superior height - having recently turned twelve and shot up like a weed.

"Tell, me Benson, how does it feel to know your mother wanted you so little she abandoned you here," he spat back, slamming his bedroom door on her face, which was followed by the sounds of whiny cries for the matron.

Inside the tiny room, the window shattered into small fragments. Once again, Tom had lost control of his rage since Gisela left. It took him a long five minutes to calm himself, only to hear the footsteps of the matron echoing down the hallway. Suddenly, the fragments reassembled themselves, and the room looked untouched, right as the matron opened the door.

"Tom Riddle," she growled, "what is this I hear about making fun of Amy Benson?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Mrs Cole," he smiled falsely, putting on the irresistibly cute charm he used to use on visitors to the orphanage to try and coax them into adopting him, although they only ever wanted babies.

"You little sneak, think that I don't know what you're -"

"On the contrary, Mrs Cole, she was teasing me about Gisela leaving," he replied, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

"Oh, you expect me to believe that? You have no proof, Riddle -"

"And you have no proof I ever said anything to her, so it seems that settles things," he replied, smirking at her enraged face, knowing perfectly well she couldn't have him caned if she had no proof. She let out a frustrated growl, slamming the door behind her as she left, the smell of alcohol lingering in his room.

The back and forth between the two children continued over the following weeks and only got more heated as Tom got more and more anxious at not receiving a second letter. He couldn't very well have written a reply; he had no idea where she was. The days in school only got longer, with the tedious math equations the teacher tried challenging him with boring him out of his mind. If the teacher hadn't thought him such a genius, he probably would have been strapped.

If he thought life couldn't get any grimmer, he was wrong. A new boy, Billy Stubbs, had arrived at the orphanage - with a big suitcase full of toys and a pet rabbit. His parents had died in a house fire, and so the eleven-year-old had been dumped at the orphanage with whatever remained of his belongings, until his grandfather, who lived in the United States, could pick him up in a few months time. Tom Riddle did not like spoilt boys, and Billy Stubbs was a spoilt boy.

"Fuck, you wonder why they haven't dumped him in an Asylum yet. He's a fucking lunatic I swear," gossiped Billy, purposefully loud enough for Tom to listen in at dinner. "If they stopped having to feed him, maybe there'd be money so we wouldn't have to eat this  _slop_  they call food here."

Annoyingly, the children had taken a liking to the new boy, particularly Amy Benson, and had naturally joined into their antics, resulting in a loud howl of laughter from the opposite table. Tom swore they would regret the comment, and when Tom Riddle swore on something - it would happen.

"Honestly, where _I'm from_ , they'd probably have thrown him into The Thames as a baby and let him -"

Suddenly, Billy, Amy, Dennis and all their little followers were throwing up their food all over the table, creating a frightfully amusing sight to the inwardly smirking nine-year-old, who locked eyes with Billy right after he vomited the second of many rounds of slop out of his stomach.

The nursemaids quickly dismissed the unaffected children, as few as there were, and Tom rejoiced as he got to step _right over_  Amy Benson's head as she rolled around crying on the floor. He managed to contain himself right up until he closed his bedroom door, where he collapsed into a fit of laughter. His uncontrollable amusement quickly turned into tears of joy at his perfect revenge, but as he felt the salty substance drip onto his lips, his tears turned rapidly from those of pleasure to those of sorrow.

Gisela would have whacked him over the head, trying to contain her smile as she scolded him for being so reckless with his...  _magic_. But Gisela wasn't here to see it. She wasn't going to be here for another whole year. Another year he would have to put up with this nonsense without her by his side. He tried to contain his sobs - to not be  _weak_  - but he couldn't prevent the agony from releasing itself.

He always sought revenge when the orphans bullied him and Gisela, but it was no longer enough to quell his anger at them. Gisela used to calm him down, but she was no longer here. They couldn't understand the pain of losing your closest companion. It was pure torture. Perhaps, if he could make them _feel his pain_ , they would learn not to mess with him. A dark shadow passed over his face as he realised exactly what he had to do. He would have to be patient and time it correctly, but it would be done, and Billy Stubbs would learn his place in the world;  _below him_. None of those stupid bastards had a shred of the magic, and they would have to learn where they belonged.

Unfortunately, for Tom, he hadn't acted soon enough.

He was awoken during the middle of the night by the sounds of whispering and footsteps outside his door. The door suddenly banged open, and three figures marched in, dragging him out of bed and onto the floor. It wasn't long before he could taste the blood dripping into his mouth, his eyes glued shut as the bangs hit and he heard a loud ringing sound in his ears. The work wasn't just from little boys. He could hear the familiar grunt of the sergeant master who trained the older boys for the armed forces - who loved nothing but a good fight and getting his filthy hands on the young children. And that's precisely what he tried to do; until he was suddenly thrown across the room and out the door, his back cracking on the floor of the hallway. The other boys ran out in fear, knowing very well the master could turn on them for his disgusting pleasure if they didn't get away. Thankfully, the door slammed at its own accord and locked tightly, preventing the man from getting back in, leaving Tom safe on the floor, knowing very well what he had just narrowly avoided.

He could barely see through his swollen eyes, dripping with tears. His pain turned to rage, and he punched the hard wall, his knuckles breaking as he bit his lip that was already covered in blood to avoid screaming in pain and anger. This would not have happened if Gisela had been here. She would have protected him. It wasn't fair. He was barely able to drag himself back into bed, lying awake in pure agony all night, dreaming of all the ways he would kill each of the boys. The sergeant would have to pay later when Tom was older and could harness his true power. Dennis Bishop could wait, for now, knowing very well he was likely forced into participating.

Billy Stubbs was going to pay the price.

The next morning, despite being covered in dry blood and stiff as a board from his bruises and breaks, he watched from his window as Billy screamed at the sight of his dead rabbit hanging from the rafters. Tom smirked, wiping the blood off bit by bit with an old wet rag in the reflection of the window.

This was only the beginning.


	5. Revelations

**August 1936.**

**_Berlin._ **

_Gisela_

Gisela looked around with wide-eyes in awe at the sight of the Wizarding town of Berlin. The Hauptstraße *****  of the town was piled with hundreds of small shops splitting off into two alleys that circled back to the entrance of the town, quite like a poorly drawn love heart. The town was filled with hundreds of wizards going about their business while the clueless child clung desperately to her Professor's hand. Thankfully, with the addition of a soft velvet cloak in a deep red to her outfit, she fitted in quite well to the crowd. The Professor had also magically changed himself out of his army uniform into a black velvet cloak with an expensive-looking black suit underneath, emitting a dark aura from him as he led Gisela down the street to the first of many shops she would buy her supplies from. He had reassured her everything would be paid for out of Durmstrang's accounts, and to not be nervous about prices. She didn't mind; until she discovered that one galleon was worth about five pounds. And the Professor had about one-hundred on him. She almost threw up. Did he know how hard it was to acquire one pound where she came from?

Thoughts of money quickly slipped her mind as they entered the first store, with piles of books so high she feared bumping into anything that could possibly collapse. Professor Klaus gathered all her necessary books but encouraged her to pick a few of her own. All in German, she feared grabbing any too difficult to understand, so she selected _'A Basic History of the Wizarding World'_ and the newly translated  _'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'_  - a very popular read. He seemed pleased with her choices - although found her choice of the book by English author Newt Scamander very amusing - and continued to the counter to pay. It was the first of many odd occurrences she noticed over the day.

The shopkeeper looked with wide eyes at him, shocked at the sight of the Professor in front of him.

"Are you -"

"His cousin, yes. No need to worry, I'm just a Professor buying a student their supplies," Professor Klaus said irritated, although the mention of the subject annoyed him.

"Well..." he replied, "my, she looks just like you. Is she yours?"

"No - related though," replied the Professor awkwardly, quickly guiding her out of the shop. She pretended she hadn't noticed the last line - she would bring him up on that later.

They continued to a potions shop, one of the most interesting places they visited, where the Professor bought her a cauldron, gloves and some odd ingredients that looked fascinating. She knew instantly whatever she would learn involving potions; she would thoroughly enjoy. Her mind drifted to the times at the orphanage when she would make odd concoctions in the garden and put them into the bullies food if they were mean to Tom. She wouldn't tell him, of course, as not to encourage him to do the same, but she did it all the same.

It was then again the Professor was recognised, by an older boy around fourteen, who attended Durmstrang.

"Professor Grindelwald! How odd to run into you here? I finished my Dark Arts essay last night, any heads up you could give me about a start of term quiz?" the boy spoke, so fast Gisela could barely make out the German. Clearly a teacher's pet, with an unlikable similarity to Amy Benson - despite how blatantly dumb the girl was.

"Hello, Mr Schindler. No, there won't be a start of term quiz. Do you think I'd be as mean as Professor Ackermann? And please, call me Professor  _Klaus_. No need to raise alarms when there is no need!" he said, trying to be polite. It was evident to Gisela, who had a talent for reading people that Professor Klaus absolutely couldn't stand the boy. This Schindler boy clearly didn't get the point.

"Oh, well I'm prepared - if you do have a quiz, that is. Oh, are you showing around a new student? But, hang on, they don't accept muggle-born -"

"She is most certainly  _not_  Muggle-born, Schindler. Now, we really must get going now. See you at school," he said, grabbing her hand and their purchases and left the shop.

After short visits to a few other shops, they found themselves in the most exciting shop, that Gisela had anticipated for weeks.

_Gregorovitch's Wands_

The shop was empty, the previous customers leaving as they entered. There were piles of wand boxes everywhere, quite like the bookshop, and she wondered how on earth the wandmaker would find her the right wand when there were so many to choose from.

The man behind the counter wasn't particularly old, late-fifties at most, writing something down in an obscenely large book. He didn't seem to notice the pair had entered the store until the Professor coughed, making his eyes look up from his work, and he dropped his quill in shock.

"Klaus Grindelwald. That's a face I haven't seen for 19 years. Thankfully, you haven't seemed to follow your cousin's habit of stealing important wands," he smirked, although he seemed thoroughly unamused.

"Gregorovitch. No need to worry, I'm on Professor duties. Gisela here," he said, gently pushing her forward, "needs a wand."

"My, is she yours? You have a  _striking_  similarity," he observed.

"I have some dignity, unlike some, to not knock-up a girl in my final year of school, Gregorovitch. We are, however, related - as you have noticed," he sneered. The man visibly flinched, while Gisela's eyes widened at the revelation.

"Really? Grindelwald men are known to be appallingly misbehaved. It must have skipped a generation with you, although this poor child seems to have paid the price of another's actions. Tell me, is she  _his_?" he countered.

"Just get on with getting her a wand," scowled the Professor, ignoring the question.

"Enough said. Come, child," the wandmaker motioned, in a much kinder tone than he had spoken to the Professor in. Gisela was shocked by the conversation she had just heard, the cogs turning in her head, and had to be gently pushed forward by the Professor towards the desk.

It took a dozen wands to find the one for her and left the wandmaker very disturbed. After many exploding candles, one wand finally warmed in her hand, a small breeze filling the room as she held it in her hand. The wandmaker had seemed reluctant even to test the wand, but it seems his fears had come true.

"That was your father's wand - the one he had before he stole another from my shop," he muttered. "Stole it back from his mother's house. Didn't need it anymore, now, did he? Birchwood, 12 inches, Thestral hair. Other than the core, and overall surprising wand for him to bond with. Suppose it isn't too cursed considering -"

"Enough, Gregorovitch. She doesn't know," he said, putting coins on the counter. "Come now, Gisela, we need to get to the Portkey on time."

She was frozen, finally putting the pieces together in her head. She grabbed the Professor's hand staring fearfully at the wandmaker and followed him out of the shop. She was in a daze for a few minutes, silently processing everything she had just heard until the Professor pulled her into a small pub and over to a fireplace.

"Aren't we taking a portkey?" she muttered quietly.

"Durmstrang's location is only accessible two ways. Portkeys are just a decoy for nosy ministry informants. The first is by a fireplace, for Professors, and the rest take a secret train. Lucky for you, we get to take the shortcut."

He said, pulling out a small bag from his pocket and  _somehow_  stuffing _far larger_  packages full of her school supplies into it, just as he had done with their trunks earlier.

"Come now, hold my hand," he said, stepping into the fireplace.

She joined him, watching with wide-eyes as he grabbed a handful of powdery substances and said quietly but clearly 'Durmstrang Insitute'. It was the most uncomfortable feeling, being squashed into a tight tunnel, but it only took a few minutes to pop out at the other side, in a somewhat cluttered large office. She grabbed the mantle of the fireplace she exited, trying not to heave over. Travelling by fireplace was the most horrible sensation, and she hoped she wouldn't be doing it again anytime soon. The Professor, unaffected, immediately went to his desk and conjured a chair out of  _thin air_  for Gisela to sit on across from him. Once Gisela had composed herself, an awkward silence fell over the room.

"I guess I should probably explain that situation with Gregorovitch," he said reluctantly. Still standing at the fireplace, she stared blankly at him, reluctantly sitting in the chair across from him.

"Your cousin is my father," she stated, in English.

Klaus was surprised by her bluntness, but the little girl in front of him was obviously intelligent, so he was hardly shocked she had worked it out so quickly based on a single conversation. He cleared his throat, awkwardly tapping his fingers on the desk.

"Most likely, yes."

"The one on all the 'wanted' posters," she continued, but this time surprised him. She must've have been putting the pieces together ever since they entered the Wizarding World.

"Yes," he said awkwardly. His cousin was always a touchy subject.

"How did you work that out? You said yourself there are plenty of Gellerts. Just because we look similar doesn't confirm anything. Why are you so sure?" she questioned in a very demanding tone.

"It was too coincidental. The similarities, the circumstances... they could have been, as you say, by chance. But your name is Gisela, the same name as my late aunt, Gellert's mother, who left decades ago to move to Albania after Muggles murdered my uncle. Perhaps I am wrong to assume, but Gregorovitch confirmed my theory," he replied. "How on earth you ended up in England, I have no idea."

"Was he a wife-beater?" she queried, her eyes squinting as dark emotions passed over her face.

"A what?" he frowned confused.

"A wife-beater."

"He didn't have a wife..." he replied, confused at the unfamiliar English word.

"Doesn't change much. Was he violent?" she questioned, her eyebrows raising. Klaus suddenly realised what she was implying.

"Well... he is... but not in that way, particularly towards women. Always quite respectful, Gellert, unless you're against him of course," he replied nervously.

"So he was a wife-beater," she stated, looking with him at dark eyes as though he was stupid for defending his cousin.

"Where are you getting this from, Gisela?" he exclaimed, in some denial.

"My mother left a note to keep me away from him, after putting me on the doorstep of an orphanage, not on the continent, right before killing herself. I'm obviously not a product of one night with a prostitute if she was so terrified of him and killed herself over it. I wouldn't be surprised - I know lots of kids at the orphanage who's mothers are dead and fathers hanged or imprisoned because of it," she replied, her voice monotone.

"Wait - what?" he stammered.

"Either that or their rape babies. If there's nothing about the father is often rape. Worse place to leave a rape baby is in an orphanage, though, just asking for them to be raped," she chuckled, "tell me, do you think my father would care if he found out about me? Where I grew up? What happened to my mother? Probably not, right?"

The Professor was utterly disturbed at the state child in front of him but didn't know where even to start. She didn't  _appear_  remotely upset, although she must've been, and the way she spoke of such  _disturbing_  topics made him feel sick. Talk of 'wife-beaters' and rape so casually made him wake up and remember the girl, his niece, was a very damaged child. It made him sick even thinking of anything of the sort happening to her. His thoughts then drifted to Gellert, and he wondered how well he really knew his cousin.

"So you don't want anything to do with him?" he asked, after a long moment of silence, although the answer seemed obvious.

"Nothing. I'd kill him, but I wouldn't want to set a bad example for Tom," she replied, sighing loudly at the thought of her friend.

Klaus Grindelwald sat speechlessly, watching in awe as the child who was always so sweet and appreciative spoke so harshly. It reminded him oddly of how his cousin would talk to him about Muggles. The thought of the little girl in front of him killing the darkest wizard of their age did make him have to resist a giggle.

"I doubt you could kill the most dangerous Wizard in Europe - if not the whole world," he replied smoothly, in amusement.

"You said yourself, Professor, magic couldn't save you with a bullet in your head," she smirked, making his smile fall. "No need to worry though, I wouldn't waste my breath on him. The only person I care about is Tom."

"You care very deeply for Tom," he stated, leaning back in his chair. Her almost sadistic attitude from before wholly disappeared, and she was suddenly a sweet little child again. It made him uncomfortable.

"He is in every way but blood my brother. He is the only one who cares about me," she replied. "I still remember the day he was born. We have the same birthday, two years apart. I still remember it though, as young as I was. It was the first time I cried, the nursemaids told me once. For two years I never once cried until they tried to separate me from him after he was born. I knew instantly we were meant to stick together. I used to carry him everywhere once I was strong enough. We refused to be adopted without each other, so we never were. He is the only one who cares about me, and I only care about him."

Klaus suddenly felt immensely guilty about his thoughts previously. It is hard to comprehend having a childhood like the mentally unhinged child in front of him. He had become quite protective and fond of her over their journey, but perhaps that wasn't only because she was a lonely child. Gellert didn't deserve her.

"Gisela, when you're not in class, you can call me 'Uncle' or 'Klaus' if you want to," he smiled. "Although best not mention your last name is Grindelwald. No need to draw unwanted attention."

"There is nothing I hate more in the world than unwanted attention, Professor."

A silence filled the room again, far less awkward than before however. Klaus studied the child before him, wondering what, if any, of her features, did not come from his cousin. It was then he realised although her eyes were blue, they were... different. While his cousin's eyes were the traditional Grindelwald pale blue, Gisela's had a slight green tone that made him feel as though he was staring into the shallows of the sea.

"You mention your mother killed herself, but do you know anything else about her?" he asked, wondering where those eyes had come from.

"Everything about my mother and her life is buried in the sea, along with her," she replied, an aura of sadness appearing.

"The sea?"

"She threw herself off the White Cliffs of Dover."

***main street**

**DISCLAIMER: The parentage of Gisela will not contribute much to the book. The only family relation she wants is Klaus. This is revealed early as to show the part of her personality that does not care for where she comes from, a defining difference between her and Tom's character.**


	6. Durmstrang

**August 1936.**

**_Durmstrang Institute._ **

_ Gisela _

Durmstrang Institute was the most beautiful place on earth. It was a beautiful castle, with white outer walls towering high into the sky, with beautiful blue turrets looking out across the landscape. It sat high on a hill, surrounded by mountains on three sides with the fourth looking out across a glistening lake that stretched out for miles. The lake contained many beautiful islands, as well as the Durmstrang ship that sat unattended in the harbour. Inside, however, the school portrayed a far darker theme. The walls were a deep red, with black and red tapestries covering the walls in the centre of the castle, and much of the castle was dimly lit with very few candles - because most of it was underground. However, above the ground, particularly around the edges where the enormous stained glass windows lay, the walls were traditional white stone, and the floors were beautiful polished wood, Gisela found her solace in the light. It was a hauntingly beautiful place. If Tom were here with her, she could truly call it home.

Professor Klaus had made sure she was comfortable, settling her into the first-year girl's dormitories. Unlike the English school, Hogwarts, Durmstrang didn't have houses as the founder believed that the school should stand 'united as one, rather than have petty rivalries that divide us'. Thankfully, she did not have to share a dormitory, as there was a choice between a small room of your own or sharing. Obviously, Gisela would take the opportunity to have a room twice as big as the one at the orphanage all to herself. She had unpacked what few belongings she owned, including a small photograph of her and Tom at the beach together when they were very young. Unfortunately, it didn't move like wizarding photographs. She placed the picture on her windowsill, right next to her view of the lake. She sat down at her little desk, dipping her unused quill into the expensive ink and began writing the letter she'd been meaning to write for weeks but was only now allowed to do so.

_Dearest Tommy,_

_I miss you so very much. I pray to whatever god there is that you are well, despite being in that miserable hellhole. Durmstrang is paradise. I'm not allowed to describe its location, as per school rules, but it is the most beautiful sight of nature you could possibly imagine. The library is unbelievable and seems to stretch on for miles. I wish you could be experiencing this with me. I have my own room, twice as big as ours, with lots of nice clothes and sets of uniforms, all made from good materials - mainly velvet. The Wizarding World is very expensive, and without Professor Klaus I wouldn't have anything. Wizarding Berlin was incredible, and I imagine London would be quite the same._

_Speaking of the Professor, he is my uncle._

_I can imagine your face right now. I can reassure you; my father is still the bastard we assumed he was. In fact, he's the 'Most Wanted' man is Wizarding Europe. His name is 'Gellert Grindelwald' and is a dark wizard who wants to enslave the muggle world and kills anyone who disagrees with him. At least politicians have to suck it up when events don't go their way, instead of slaughtering them. I was right to assume he is indeed a wife-beater, although even Klaus knows nothing of my mother. No need to worry, however, I am perfectly safe, and Professor Klaus is all I want for a family in the Wizarding World. And you, of course. I don't need anyone but you. I'm sure that man wants nothing to do with me anyway._

_Muggle Germany, Nazi Germany that is, was surprisingly not at all as bad as the British Newspapers make it out to be. I certainly didn't see starving orphans on my journey through the country. I must even admit that their uniforms are quite handsome. I know you are rolling your eyes, but it is true. No need to worry about German boys, however, I'm sure they're just as annoying as English ones like yourself. Stop pouting - I know you are._

_I have to tell you about Hogwarts! There are four houses: Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Based on their qualities you are most certainly a Slytherin, Tom Riddle. It is in Scotland, and you take a train to get there. The Headmaster is called Professor Dippet. It is a grand castle, but it has fewer students than Durmstrang, most likely as it caters to fewer countries. Durmstrang doesn't have houses. So if you are not to join me, I'm sure you'll find a good enough home in Hogwarts._

_From now on, I'm going to write to you in German, to test your skills, and I'll enclose some newspaper clippings in this letter. The owl will wait for you to write a letter in reply then return to me._

_Always in my heart,_

_Gisela._

She sealed her letter and tucked it into an envelope, closed her ink and exited her room. She skipped through the empty corridors, headed the owlery in the southern tower's turret, where she found a long-distance owl to deliver the letter to her friend. It was black and regal, unlike some other owls who had a habit of biting.

She was on her way back from the tower when she came face to face with a Professor she had yet to meet.

"So you're the one Klaus brought back from  _England_ ," he sneered, looking down at her over his square-shaped spectacles.

"I am," she smiled falsely, ignoring his rude manner, "may I ask your name, Professor?"

"Professor Ackermann, I teach duelling. You won't be taking that until the third year," he replied, his scowl not leaving his face. "Although, I assume someone not only a girl but also  _English_ , would perform poorly at the subject."

"I assume Uncle Klaus would beg to differ," she smiled again, with a sharper tone.

"What do you mean,  _Uncle?_ "

"Enough, Ackermann. Stay away from my niece and leave your sexist comments in Austria. We both know how many times my sister beat your arse," interrupted Klaus, rounding the corner and stepping between Gisela and the nasty teacher. The Professor looked between Klaus and the new little girl, biting back a retort to his co-worker and instead chose to pick on the girl.

"Best be aware, girl, any favourite of Grindelwald's is a least-favourite of mine," he sneered.

"Oh please, just because you want my job -"

"No arguing in my corridors, boys!" bellowed an older man, his voice echoing down the corridor. He was dressed very regally, with greying hair and a long hooked nose.

"Headmaster Schwarzburg," they both acknowledged, immediately straightening up to acknowledge their superior. He ignored both of them, eyes going to the little girl he had heard so much about.

"You know, Miss," he grinned kindly, "I have been separating brawls between these boys since they were eleven. Their rivalry is famous across Germany, mainly due to their inappropriate outward displays in front of the innocent children of the school, who are encouraged to pick sides. Can you imagine how annoying it is for me?" he exclaimed, speaking as though the men he spoke of weren't right in front of him.

"It reminds me, sir, of myself and a girl I used to go to school with. I finished the fight a few decades earlier than these two, however," she smirked, enjoying the sight of two grown men being scolded like babies.

"Any advice for the children bickering here?" he smiled, amused at the little girl's fiery attitude.

"Oh, I wouldn't know, I had the upper hand in that case, with the help of my brother who set snakes on her," she chuckled, thinking back to the look on Mary's face. She was an obnoxious little bitch who left the orphanage soon after, to everyone's relief.

"Perhaps I should take a leaf out of your niece's book, Grindelwald, and grow some guts," snarled Professor Ackermann, only for the Headmaster to raise his hand as a warning.

"This conversation is over. Please, try and contain yourself boys. I'm sure Miss Gisela here is perfectly capable of  _not_  following your example, but I've noticed other students have not. The last thing we need is Durmstrang standing divided in such tense times," he replied, throwing a knowing look at Klaus.

The older men both huffed like children but parted ways, and Gisela was left standing alone in the hallway with the headmaster. He was studying her, trying to glimpse into her mind, but found it locked tight. Remarkable, for such a young child.

"So, Miss Gisela, I heard we are not to call you Miss Grindelwald," he murmured, fascinated with the possible parentage of the child before him.

"I tend to keep to myself, sir, and I fear the name would draw unwanted attention," she confessed.

"Oh, no need to worry. I reassure you; I am fond of all the Grindelwald family. There is nothing to be ashamed of; I support the greater good," he replied and observed as she scrunched her nose up with distaste.

"I have no opinion on subjects I don't understand, sir, but I'd prefer not to talk about my past or associated with any member of that family except Professor Klaus. My only true family is my friend Tom, who is like my little brother, and it will stay that way," she replied, her eyes boring into him with a dark look. He was shocked that such a small child, who looked much younger than eleven, had such sharp eyes. He silently thanked Merlin for the girl's attitude towards her father.

"That is perfectly fine, Miss Gisela. Will we meet this Tom sometime in the future?"

"I highly doubt that - he is English. He will probably go to Hogwarts," she replied sadly.

"Oh, well I'm sure he will be well looked after by Professor Dumbledore," he responded.

"Isn't the Headmaster Professor Dippet?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"Yes, of course, but I'm sure I heard somewhere that Professor Dumbledore looked after the new students. Now, I must be on my way. Feel free to continue your exploring; I'm sure it will be the only time you have the school all to yourself," he smiled fondly.

"I certainly will, Professor."

She left him to continue skipping down the corridor, her little red dress bouncing with every step. She headed for the library, that she had already begun to raid - if checking out ten books counted as raiding - and settled on her favourite circular windowsill in one of the very back corners, burying her head in a tome of wizarding fairy tales. After an hour, she was jolted out of her book by the sight of an unnaturally large bird with horse's legs swooping past the window. She had seen the creatures down by the lake but never up close, as she was forbidden to leave the castle until the school year started. Very soon, these halls would be filled with rich children with loving parents and spoilt childhoods. She prayed she wouldn't suffocate on their entitlement. She returned to her book,  _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , hoping she would make at least one friend who wouldn't resemble what she feared. 


	7. Humiliation

**August 1936.**

**_London._ **

_ Tom _

Tom was relieved at the sight of himself in the small mirror; the swelling of his eyes had gone down, and his cuts were beginning to heal. He was now able to bear the pain of his broken ribs - which was nothing compared to a harsh canning - and so pretended as though nothing was wrong. Unfortunately, the deep purple bruises remained, and he was constantly reminded of it by almost every child in the orphanage. Billy Stubbs looked so  _pleased_  with himself the day after the attack and loved to rub it in Tom's face. This only angered him more; he was  _special,_  and Billy was  _nothing_.

"Looking a bit sore there Tom, wonder how that happened? Was the freak finally put in his place?" teased Billy, roaring with laughter when Tom didn't respond and continued to ignore him.

He was eating his morning dose of slop, which he had  _somehow_  managed to make it taste like cake and Billy's comment was ruining a pleasant breakfast. He quickly finished his food, clearing his wooden bowl from the table, when suddenly it was knocked out of his hand and hit the floor. Thankfully it hadn't broken, but the room fell silent all the same.

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you," spat Billy grabbing the back of Tom's shirt.

"I do listen; you just don't have anything particularly interesting to say," smirked Tom, slipping out of his grip and making a run for it.

He shot up the stairs, ignoring the pounding ache from his injuries, and sprinted down to his room, slamming the door behind him and locking it with a doorstop that he had discovered. It was only seconds later he heard pounding on the door, nasty insults shot at him from the boy on the other side. Surprisingly, Dennis had not joined Billy in his antics. Eventually, he gave up on trying to get into Tom's room and left with a grumble of defeat.

Tom had one month to take his revenge on Billy before the brat left for America, and he could feel the time ticking by. He had not planned to have a week spent in bed after his brutal attack, to recover from his injuries; although having time alone with nothing but your thoughts helps for brainstorming ways to torture your fellow inmate. It was precisely why he thought of such brilliant revenge.

_Humiliation._

It was Billy's main aspiration when it came to bullying; to humiliate his victim. Little did Billy know, it was also Gisela's go-to source of revenge, and Tom would undoubtedly be taking a leaf out of her book in his plan. Humiliating Billy to the point of destroying his ego in front of the entire orphanage was going to be a prime moment in the switch of power in the orphanage hierarchy.

He was swimming in his mind so deep he jumped in fright and the sound of an owl tapping on the window, dangling an envelope from its foot. He jumped up to open the window, practically ripping the letter off the owl's foot, leading to him narrowly avoiding a painful bite. He eagerly sat down on his bed and tore open the envelope, to reveal a small piece of delicate parchment with expensive ink written in perfect cursive. Clearly, his dear friend's handwriting had been dramatically improved over the past few weeks, or it was the work of magic. When he began to read, however, he groaned in frustration as he realised it was written in German, and so it took him much longer to understand having to translate the foreign words.

_Dearest Tommy..._

_The library is unbelievable... I have my own room... The Wizarding World is very expensive..._

_Speaking of the Professor, he is my uncle._

Tom's eyes widened in disbelief at the information, confused to how she could have possibly discovered this with her lack of a surname. How on earth had she discovered this?

_I can reassure you; my father is still the bastard we assumed he was. In fact, he's the 'Most Wanted' man is Wizarding Europe. His name is 'Gellert Grindelwald' and is a dark wizard who wants to enslave the muggle world and kills anyone who disagrees with him. At least politicians have to suck it up when events don't go their way, instead of slaughtering them._

He couldn't quite believe what he was reading. Gisela's father being a criminal was believable, but certainly not to the extent of being the 'Most Wanted Wizard in Europe'. His eyes narrowed and the following lines.

_I was right to assume he is indeed a wife-beater, although even Klaus knows nothing of my mother. No need to worry, however, I am perfectly safe, and Professor Klaus is all I want for a family in the Wizarding World. And you, of course. I don't need anyone but you. I'm sure that man wants nothing to do with me anyway._

If this 'Gellert Grindelwald' thought he was getting anywhere near his Gisela, especially if he intended to treat her anything like how he did to her mother, he thought wrong. There was nothing he hated more than men who disrespected the woman who did so much for them; like how the Sergeant Master beat his wife and how this 'Gellert' treated his lover. He was going to kill this man one day, to keep her safe. No one would ever touch his Gisela ever again.

_Muggle Germany, Nazi Germany that is, was surprisingly not at all as bad as the British Newspapers make it out to be. I certainly didn't see starving orphans on my journey through the country. I must even admit that their uniforms are quite handsome. I know you are rolling your eyes, but it is true. No need to worry about German boys, however, I'm sure they're just as annoying as English ones like yourself. Stop pouting - I know you are._

Despite her cheeky comment - very Gisela of her - hopefully, she would discover that Muggle German boys were a waste of her time, as were Wizarding ones. The only boy she needed in her life was him; but he would forgive her eyes wandering, as long as it was just her eyes. Her comment on Nazi Germany, however, surprised him. The matron had stressed how horrible they were, but perhaps it was just because she was Jewish; why people cared so much for their pretend Gods and which God was right, he would never understand.

_I have to tell you about Hogwarts! There are four houses: Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Based on their qualities you are most certainly a Slytherin, Tom Riddle. It is in Scotland, and you take a train to get there._

Finally; a positive subject. Unfortunately, she was vaguer on the subject that he would have liked. Why on earth was he 'most certainly a Slytherin'? He must remember to scold her on the lack of detail; these letters were all that kept him sane.

_... I'll enclose some newspaper clippings in this letter. The owl will wait for you to write a letter in reply then return to me._

His eyes jumped to the owl, patiently perched on his outer window ledge, watching him with dark beady eyes, then back to the envelope. He opened it up to find a single thin clipping with a short article written below it.

GELLERT GRINDELWALD STRIKES AGAIN

A Muggle family has been murdered in Frankfurt, only days after the Munich attack on an Auror base. Four wizards, including Grindelwald himself, have been reported to have fled the scene shortly after. The Muggles were a Jewish family, only increasing suspicion over whether or not Grindelwald is working with Hitler. The French Ministry of Magic supports the theory, while our own Ministry thinks otherwise. Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Josef Schindler, states that it would make no logical sense for a man who hates Muggles to be working with them.

Tom's eyes frantically reread the German article, surprised at how large and sophisticated the world he belonged to was. They had Ministries for each country, with different departments, and the threat of the Dark Wizard who so happens to be Gisela's creator poses such a significant threat there is suspicion as to whether or not he is working with one of the most influential world leaders. He immediately penned a letter back to her, sending it rolled up in a scroll on his cheap paper back to her. He needed to know more.

He had reread her letter and the article a few hundred times before he heard the familiar tapping on the door, notifying that lunch - a rare meal in the orphanage - was served. He slipped out of his room and headed down the narrow hallway, his footsteps silent among the loud stomping of the orphans climbing down the broken stairwell.

Entering the dining hall, he smirked. Game over, Billy.

He walked to his usual seat in the corner, with the younger children who were too young to understand the concept of bullying. Waiting for him was a bowl of slop, grey in colour and as unappetising as usual. He sat down, waiting patiently for the nursemaids to say their pointless grace before they were allowed to tuck in.

He tapped his foot quietly on the floor, watching as Billy entered with his group of cronies, including Benson and Bishop, laughing about something that no doubt involved a nasty comment about Tom, as all of the children were staring in his direction. He bit the inside of his cheek; he had to be patient, as the timing had to be perfect. The remaining children took their seats, and the staff began grace, Tom reluctantly joining hands with the orphans sitting beside him as the useless thanks were said.

They finally were able to tuck into their luke-warm slop, and while the orphans scoffed their food down, Tom ate slowly, his calculating eyes glancing at Billy from across the room. He clenched his fist around his bowl, channelling his energy, glaring with deep hatred across the room. For a moment, everything seemed normal, until the soft hissing in a familiar language could be heard.

Twenty small garden snakes crept silently across the floor, their hisses so soft only someone of extraordinary ability could hear them. They approached Billy's shoes, slithering up his legs under the hem of his trousers, so softly the boy could barely feel anything, other than slight discomfort. Tom waited until they had all disappeared from sight, before gritting his teeth, a loud scream emitting from the table across the room.

Billy stood and scream, holding his privates in agony as they were attacked from out of sight, forming a wet patch on the surface of his trousers, making him fall to the floor. The children fell silent, watching as the nursemaids ran for the boy, confused as to what on earth had caused such distress.

"Something keeps biting me!" screamed the chubby boy, not resisting as the matron pulled down his pants and showed the whole hall there was  _absolutely nothing_  inside, other than a pee-stained set of breaches.

Tom was the first to emit a giggle, leading the younger children on, as a loud chorus of laughter began to echo through the hall as Billy stood and stumbled off humiliated, still holding his privates. Even Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop couldn't resist a grin, which both pleased and annoyed Tom; this was done for his amusement and not theirs, although at least Billy's followers would no longer support him after that brilliant show of humiliation.

He couldn't wait to tell Gisela.


	8. Olga

**September 1936.**

**_Durmstrang Institute._ **

_Gisela_

The students swarmed into the castle in flocks, each group distinctly distinguished by their age and nationality, at least four different languages being muttered throughout the halls of the magnificent castle. They had been separated between the genders at the castle gates, heading to separate wings of the castle where their dormitories were located. Gisela watched from her perch in the library that looked out across the front courtyard and into the mountains as groups of gossiping girls made their way inside, indicating that she should retire to her rooms. The first assembly of students was not until after breakfast the following morning, so perhaps she could attempt to acquaint herself with her fellow classmates.

Already in her uniform, she skipped back through the empty higher floors to the first-year girl's quarters, fidgeting with the sides of her pleated black skirt as the sounds of fast chatter in foreign languages got louder and louder. She turned the corner to find at least a hundred girls crowded around the entrance to the dormitories, all of them well above her height, suddenly running in all at once. She wondered what all the rush was about until she distinctly heard something about 'getting the best room for a group' exclaimed in German. She was surprised that girls would be eager to share a dorm, rather than have their own rooms, but she supposed they didn't understand the privilege of the latter.

After they all piled through the door, she slowly made her way in, heading to her room seemingly invisible to the frantic and excited girls running around her. The first years claiming beds in the three large shared dormitories, with ten beds each, clearly organised by language. The first room she passed she could hear the laughter of Germans, the only language she could understand, all talking about who got the best bed. The second room was filled with Bulgarians, and although she could not understand their words, they sounded far more aggressive. The last dorm she could hear the sound of Polish chatter, far quieter than the voices from the previous two rooms. Then there were the smaller dorms, five beds each, with the respective languages being the reason for the choice obvious. There were two rooms of Romanians, followed by two rooms of students from Yugoslavia, a few different languages thrown around, then one room with Hungarians and one with Czechoslovakians. Then there were the ten private rooms, only one other of them occupied indicated by the newly closed door - obviously not a popular option.

She headed to her room, furthest from the entrance to the dorms, and shut the door behind her. She had no interest in socialising at this present moment, particularly when most of her classmates spoke in foreign languages. She would be enough of an outsider amongst the Germans. She began to settle into a book when her peace was rudely interrupted by a loud voice in German shouting through the door that there was a first-year meeting in the girl's common room. Gisela rolled her eyes but set her book down anyway, hopping up from her bed and exiting her room, at the same time as her only fellow single-roomer.

Gisela and the girl locked eyes, examining each other. The girl was a fair bit taller, with slick black hair tied back into a tight bun and blue eyes so big they almost looked unnatural, but beautiful all the same.

"Hello, I see we both prefer the privacy of our own room," she stated in German, but with an obvious thick accent.

"I couldn't imagine sharing," Gisela replied.

"I'm Olga, you are?"

"Gisela," she replied, in an almost perfect German accent.

"You're not with the rest of the Germans?" she asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I'm not the most social," she replied, folding her hands together in anxiousness, "and I grew up in England."

"That makes two of us. I'm Russian but grew up in Paris, so I don't know anyone anywhere," she chuckled, before looking down the hall, "we should go join the girls."

Gisela nodded in agreement and followed Olga, painfully aware of how much smaller she was. Entering the large common room, they both approached unnoticed by the sixty or so girls in a very large circle in the centre of the room. They took a seat on the floor in an open spot, just in time for a tall girl to stand and clap her hands for attention. Gisela immediately knew she would not like this girl.

"Listen up! I thought we should all introduce ourselves to get to know our classmates. So, we shall go around and say our name and family, who our friends are, what city and country we come from and the subject and activity we are most looking forward to! I'll start," she exclaimed, rather obnoxiously. "My name is Eva Schindler, I have an older brother here, and my father is  _very senior_  in the Ministry. My friends are Charlotte Braun, Lisa Frank and Margot Keller - obviously sitting beside me - and we are all from Berlin in Germany. I am most looking forward to Dark Arts with the _handsome_  Professor and my favourite activity is ballet!"

Her friends continued, with almost identical answers. It then moved on to the Bulgarians, led by a girl called Nadia, the Polish girls led by Paulina, the Romanians led my Elena, the Slavs led by a Croatian Marija, the Hungarians led by Vivian and the Czechoslovakians led by Sofie. Then there was a second group of Germans introduced, clearly not banding together like the other nationalities.

"My name is Irma Peters, I am an only child, and my father serves _very high up_  in the army. My friends are Dorothea Ziegler, Ingrid and Astrid Hoffman - we are from Munich - and two new girls have joined our group, Leni Kuhn and Willhemina Coburg. Leni is from Frankfurt, and Willhemina grew up in Belgium. I am most looking forward to Charms, and my favourite activity is singing," she smirked, eyes boring in with a challenge at Eva's group across the room.

The final girls remaining were Olga and Gisela, looking at each other, both not wanting to speak. Reluctantly, Olga cleared her throat and prepared her speech quickly in her head, not wanting to seem too much the outsider.

"My name is Olga Kschessinskaya, my family lives in Paris but is originally from Russia. My friend is Gisela, sitting next to me. I am most looking forward to Transfiguration, and my favourite activity is ballet," she stated, then looking to Gisela.

"My name is Gisela, my family is German, but I grew up in London with my little brother, Tom. My friend is Olga. I am most looking forward to Potions, and my favourite activity is singing," she said, having never had the opportunity to participate in other rich-girl activities like Ballet, Waltzing, Piano, Violin and Chess. She was surprised the girls involved in such activities, but she supposed the Wizarding World wasn't so different from the Muggle. They were all being groomed for marriage here too.

The other girls stared with judgemental eyes at the two girls with such short and vague answers, and it didn't take long for some to start asking questions.

"So, Olga, if your Russian why aren't you at Koldostorez?" questioned Eva Schindler, her tone tormenting.

"Because my family prefers that I attend here," she replied dismissively, very aware of what the other girl was trying to do.

"But why not Beauxbatons if you lived in France?" Eva pressed.

"Because they have more German connections than French," she replied, clearly annoyed.

"Same with me. I also didn't go to Hogwarts because I have more German connections," Gisela interrupted, trying to defend Olga.

"And you," Irma Peters butted in from the other side of the circle, "what's your surname?"

"I go by Gisela, that's all," she replied, unfortunately attracting the attention of all the others.

"Why -"

"Clearly, this conversation is over," drawled Olga, "Gisela and I will retire to our rooms. See you at assembly tomorrow girls, have a pleasant sleep."

Gisela was thankful for her intervention and quickly followed her new friend out of the room. Once out of sight, they burst into giggles and escaped back to their rooms, Olga inviting Gisela into her room, still undecorated and unpacked.

"God, those German girls are total bitches," laughed Olga, "hopefully their too busy biting each other's heads off, so they leave us alone. Did you see Eva and Irma? The ringleaders seem to hate each other already. And those groups! I understand the separation by language; Sofie and the Czechoslovakians and Paulina and the Polish girls seem nice enough. But those Bulgarians and German girls - heavens!"

"They remind me of girls back home. Oh well, thankfully we don't have to associate them other than class," Gisela replied, unpleasant memories resurfacing.

"Oh, the classes will be fine. Most of those girls don't give a single thought to education, and we are separated into three separate streams next year. It's going to be activities with Madame Petrova where their competitive sides will show, it's all simply a competition of who is most marriageable for the boys. We won't associate with them other than at performances and balls, so its the only true way they can impress. Everything here separates gender, and girls can't even fly!" Olga exclaimed horrified.

"You are quite the suffragette. Well, my education matters most. I have never done anything besides singing of those activities anyway," said Gisela.

"You mean you've never danced?" exclaimed Olga, horrified. "Or played an instrument?"

"I never had the money for a musical upbringing," replied Gisela, wondering how best to avoid the subject.

"Oh, I must teach you basic ballet, or you will be so embarrassed in lessons! We must both put those girls in their place!" Olga replied enthusiastically. "Ballet is just wonderful. I'm properly trained in Russian ballet, my grandmother was an incredible ballerina and runs her own studio, so I'm sure I can trump those girls who brag but are nowhere near my level! I'll help you, of course, it's not your fault. So what did your parents teach you lessons-wise?"

"Well," Gisela replied, far quieter, "I never had any parents, just my brother. I learnt to read and write and speak German, that's it."

"Oh, I'm sorry! My mother passed away when I was little too; I really shouldn't be so insensitive. Is your brother coming to Durmstrang?" Olga replied, pity washing across her face.

"No need, I have no interest in my parents. My brother isn't my... blood brother... just an affectionate term. He's only nine but will go to Hogwarts most likely as he is English," she replied, her tone changing to one of sadness at the thought of Tom being left all alone in that dreadful place. Her heart clenched in desperation for a letter of reply.

"Oh, I'm so dreadfully sorry. It seems we both come from tragic pasts," she replied awkwardly. "Onto more positive subjects, would you like me to teach you the basics of ballet?"

"Yes, of course," Gisela smiles.

"Take your shoes off, and we can start with positions!" Olga clapped with excitement. "So first there are the positions..."

*

"Welcome to Durmstrang Institute, Gentlemen, Ladies. I am Headmaster Schwarzburg," the older man spoke, looking across the Great Hall at the fourteen tables of students. "We are the most prestigious institution of magical tuition, and I expect my students to perform to the standard expected of you. To all first years, and to remind our older students, I will run over our rules. The castles boundaries are heavily guarded, and no one is permitted to leave without explicit permission. If you attempt to leave, you will face appropriate punishment. Young men and ladies are not permitted to associate with each other until their fourth year, and the dormitories are _heavily_ guarded with magic to uphold this. We are respectable young men and women at this school, and I won't have that tainted. Everyone is expected to participate in their allocated classes and extra-curricular lessons. You must have a written note from a teacher or a healer in the hospital wing if you are significantly late or miss a class. You will face detention if there is no reasonable explanation. Finally, Durmstrang's location is top secret. No one is allowed to tell anyone, even your families, where it is located. Anyone caught breaking this rule will face instant expulsion."

Gisela looked wide-eyed at Olga in response to the Headmaster's frankness but continued to listen to his opening speech with interest.

"I would also like to address the growing hostilities in both the Muggle and Magical worlds. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but I will no accept blatant racism on these grounds. By racism, I mean both Magical and Nationality racism. We are a school of diverse background, our borders stretching from the far west of Germany to over the Soviet border. We stand united regardless of Muggle and Magical tensions, and that will continue through whatever is to come. Regarding  _Magical_  racism; every single one of you in this room is at least half-blood. For this reason, we usually have no problems, but I will not have any of this English blood supremacy infiltrating _our_ world. You are  _all_ witches and wizards, from at least some magical descent. Enough said," he finished, clapping his hands that conjured food to appear in a ridiculous feast in front of Gisela's eyes.

She had never seen so much food in her life. Stacked up in piles of various treats she could never imagine eating at the orphanage, the whole display disgusted her. The plates of pastries and bread in front of her could feed her and Tom for a month. Tom was eating nothing but slop back home.

She nibbled on some toast with butter, unsure of what most of the food in front of her even was, other than the French pastries that she had seen in Paris. Her appetite had almost completely disappeared as she watched the children around her, even Olga, dug into their food as though it was perfectly normal. It made her angry, and she opened her timetable to try and distract her from her dark thoughts.

_MISS GISELA. FIRST-YEAR GIRLS._

_DARK ARTS with Professor Klaus: 8 am, Monday, Wednesday, Friday._

_TRANSFIGURATION with Professor Hertz: 10 am, Monday, Wednesday, Friday._

_CHARMS with Professor Klein: 1 pm, Monday, Wednesday, Friday._

_POTIONS with Professor Sommer: 3 pm, Monday, Wednesday, Friday._

_HISTORY OF MAGIC with Madame Mayer: 8 am, Tuesday, Thursday._

_HERBOLOGY with Professor Glas: 10 am, Tuesday, Thursday._

_CHOIR with Madame Petrova: 1 pm, Tuesday, Thursday._

_LANGUAGES with Madame Petrova: 2 pm, Tuesday, Thursday._

_BALLET with Madame Petrova: 3 pm, Tuesday, Thursday._

_LADIES TRAINING with Madame Petrova: 6 pm, Friday evenings in Common Room._

Gisela was delighted to see her timetable was identical to Olga's, her mood brightening at the thought of her new companion helping her avoid the dreadful company of the spoilt bitches that had already started to gossip about her. Hopefully, the advice Klaus and Olga had given her would help her prove them all wrong. She had reread all her course books just in case, and hopefully, the 'extra-curricular' lessons would be easy enough to get through.

She couldn't wait to tell Tom about it all.


	9. Tommy

**September 1936.**

_**Durmstrang Institute.** _

_Gisela_

Sitting on her large four-poster bed, with textbooks spread out around her, she began the first of many essays she would write this year. She placed her ink on the bedside table, starting to scribble her Transfiguration essay about the basic principals of the subject, leaning her parchment on a textbook while she leaned back on the soft feather pillow. Gisela was still getting used to a life of utter luxury, finding it hard to bear knowing Tom's conditions back home.

The first week of classes had flown by quickly, and Gisela put her best effort to keep up and stay in her newly assumed position of the smartest in the class. Most of the other students didn't give much care, but Eva Schindler and Irma Peter's groups quickly began to compete, irritated at the attention Gisela was receiving from the Professors; particularly her 'handsome' Uncle. Olga wasn't bothered, although she did put a reasonable effort in, which relieved Gisela; there was nothing she hated more than jealous rich girls.

She had mixed views on her classes - although her strong work ethic didn't falter - finding some more difficult than others to concentrate in. Dark Arts was one of her favourite subjects, her Uncle enthralling the class with stories and information, although the downside was that it was strictly theory until the third year. It also helped that she was one of his favourites, even if she wasn't sure if it was entirely appropriate to favour a blood relation, but her passion for the subject made it seem not so inappropriate in her classmate's eyes, unaware of their connection.

Another subject she enjoyed was Potions, the mixture of odd substances creating liquids of use fascinating her. Professor Sommer was a kind, older man who appreciated her aptitude for the subject and showered her in compliments. Her brief cooking lessons all the girls were taught in the orphanage seemed to have paid off, as she was one of the only girls who didn't get scolded for dangerously holding their knives when cutting up ginger root. Olga, on the other hand, was utterly useless at Potions, and often let Gisela take charge in their projects.

Charms and Transfiguration were the less-interesting classes in Gisela's mind, although learning had to levitate had been the highlight of her week, as the teachers seemed to drone on and didn't seem to have any enthusiasm about their subjects. Professor Klien was very knowledgeable, but she often found his monotone voice could send her into a daze. Professor Hertz, however, spoke with a cynical undertone, not seeming to have any faith in her classmates. He seemed to assume that their gender made them inferior to the male students, although he was certainly more subtle than the dreadful Professor Ackermann, who she was thankful to avoid having as a teacher this year. For this reason, Gisela worked twice as hard at the subject to prove him wrong.

Herbology and History of Magic were clearly not seen as essential subjects, having two classes a week rather than one, despite the teachers being two of her favourites. She absolutely loved Professor Glas, who was the most feminine man she had ever met, gossiping with the girls after class and speaking with such enthusiasm about the weird plants placed before them in the greenhouse. She didn't particularly enjoy the subject, save the knowledge of the plant's properties that could be used for potions, but her Professor always made everyone giggle. History of Magic was taught by her only female teacher, Madame Mayer, a French woman who held such passion for the subject. She spoke of important events in Wizarding History, particularly in Eastern Europe, that had every girl sitting on the edge of their seats. She was quite the story-teller.

Where Gisela would clearly have competition was in their extra-curricular lessons: singing, languages and ballet. Every girl strived to be the best, and Gisela found herself pretending to keep up with skills she had no concept of. Singing wasn't too difficult as long as she was able to remember the lyrics she could blend into the crowd easily. In languages, they were starting the year with French, which she had a basic concept of, although Olga had to keep correcting her pronunciation. Soon enough they would move to English, which Gisela would be thankful for, as she was sure she was the only one in the class fluent at it, unlike French where she was very far behind.

It was Ballet, however, where she struggled most, and if not for Olga's help she would be humiliated. Every student had apparently had some background knowledge, and the class full of all sixty girls in her year was an intimidating sight in their black leotards and white skirts, which she had only pulled from her belongings that morning. She positioned herself behind Olga the bar and was able to keep up with the necessary steps, but it became painfully obvious how much smaller she was than the other girls. She had always been short, but her malnourishment became apparent when the instructor, Madame Petrova, looked worriedly at her stick-thin arms and legs, despite having lectured Dorethea Ziegler and Margot Keller, who were perfectly normal sized girls, that they needed to lose weight. Thankfully, when the Madame called out Russian words she could not understand, she was able to copy Olga - who was clearly the best dancer in the class. Madame Petrova eyed her with admiration and spoke fast in Russian with her after class, leaving Gisela clueless as to what they were saying.

The Friday night's ladies training with Madame Petrova was laughable, however. Gisela couldn't believe that sexism ran this rife in the Wizarding World that they were almost back in the nineteenth century. Her classmates, save Olga, were pathetic as they listened intently to her words as though marrying the right man was their only passage in life. Gisela knew that marriage meant sacrificing your independence and power to your more important male mate and she wanted nothing to do with it. If only her classmates knew what bad unions led to; she grew up in an orphanage, and about a third of the children were from abusive situations. She knew, having it drilled into her by Mrs Cole, that work was the only to survive in this world.

After the 'ladies' session in the common room, she couldn't contain her giggles at the downright patheticness of it all and got straight into her assignments, which led her to begin writing her Transfiguration essay, which was quickly interrupted by a loud tapping on her window, an owl carrying a letter giving her a rude hoot. She opened the window and untied the scroll, letting the owl go on its way as she excitedly unwrapped the letter.

_Dear Gisela,_

_You must give me more details about Hogwarts and send me more information about the world we belong to. I expect a far longer letter next time; your letters are all that keeps me sane. Tell me all about the school subjects so I can get a head start. I want to fit into this world and leave this horrible past behind us._

_On the subject of your father, I am pleased to hear you will have nothing to do with him. No need to fear his wrath if he does discover you, Gisela, I will make sure you are kept safe and far away from him. If you do not kill him in the future, I will take the liberty of doing it myself. On the subject of parentage, however, can you please search your library for any record of 'Riddle'. I wish to have some grasp on why on earth I have been dumped here._

_The living nightmare of this place has only got worse since you left. Amy Benson has been as bitchy as usual, but I put up with it until a new boy called Billy Stubbs joined the orphanage for a temporary stay until his grandfather from America comes to get him. He is the worst of all the dirt under my shoes here. I put up with it until he did the very worse. Stubbs, along with Bishop, got the Sergeant Master to come and try his disgusting perversion on me, but I was able to magically banish him from my room - not before I was beaten up rather badly. I spent a week in bed, and my face is only now returning to its normal colour. I was slightly worried my injuries were worse, but I seem to be getting better._

_Oh, and I will continue writing to you in English, thank you very much._

_Tom._

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the contents of the letter, too shocked at how much had changed in their lives. She prayed this Stubbs boy would leave soon, and that the Sergeant would stay the hell away from her Tom. She had experienced her own horrific encounter with that ghastly man, and she thanked whatever god there was that he preferred boys - until this moment. It took all her sanity to avoid screaming in frustration and anger. Silent tears began to crawl down her cheeks at the thought of not being able to protect Tommy when he most needed her. She collapsed on her bed, shoving her textbooks off it and began shaking, grabbing her pillow as tightly as possible, trying to avoid a magical outburst.

Transfiguration could wait, and so she turned off her lights and sobbed in the darkness.

*

The letter had left Gisela miserable and helpless, and everything Olga tried to do to cheer her up resulted in no change in her mood. She was thankful her friend avoided prying into her personal life, and she suspected because Olga was the same about her own, but clearly, Olga was worried. She continued working hard in class, never faltering in her assignments and continuing to receive the best grades, but her sudden change in emotion had not only caught her friend's attention.

She was curled up in her favourite spot in the Library, over a week after she had received the letter, trying to ignore her thoughts by burying her head in a novel, when she was interrupted by her Uncle, sitting at a seat on a desk near her favourite corner, in an otherwise empty space in the library. He had been sitting there for a while, observing her as she read before he finally spoke up.

"I have noticed you've not been particularly lively this week, Gisela," he stated, his eyebrows frowned in worry.

"I miss Tommy," she said quietly, not looking up from her book.

"I understand it must be hard -"

"You don't understand," she exclaimed, "you have no idea how hard it is to be separated from your closest friend."

"Actually, I do," he countered softly, gazing off into the distance, "I know exactly how you feel. Tell me, what particularly has happened?"

"Tom got beaten so bad he had to be in bed for a week and the Sergeant who trains the army boys tried to rape him," she said, turning her head to glare at him.

Klaus' eyes widened in shock at the blunt statement, a lump rising in his throat as disturbing images flashed through his mind. Tom was a memorable, but innocent little boy and the thought of those  _things_  happening to him made him feel like vomiting.

"Why on earth is that allowed to happen? Has the man been arrested?" he asked baffled.

"You honestly think there is such thing as consequences for hurting people who are unwanted in the first place? Mrs Cole is too drunk to notice that the Sergeant's been assaulting the orphans for years; I narrowly avoided getting raped because a prettier looking boy came along -"

Klaus couldn't hold it in, running for the rubbish basket across the room and heaving over in shock horror at the information revealed. It took him a good minute before he could stand again on his shaky legs, slowly approaching the little girl on the window sill.

"You're not going back there," he stated, in a demanding tone.

"I have to go back to Tom -"

"Well, then I will pay for Tom to stay with you somewhere over the summer. You are not going back there," he repeated.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, still sitting on the ledge, and Gisela sat there unsure on whether to return the embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he lifted her tiny frame, letting her wrap her legs around his waist as she had seen a muggle father embracing his children do. She rested her chin on his shoulder and moved her arms around his neck.

She began to cry.

"Why must life be so unfair?" she sobbed.

"Life is unfair, but  _it is fairer than death_. Think of it that way, dear niece."


	10. Debts

**October 1936.**

_**London.** _

_Tom_

Tom watched the taxi drive away with utter relief and minor disappointment. The black cab drove down to the end of the street and out of sight, taking away a good portion of Tom's fear with it. Finally, Billy Stubbs was leaving the orphanage and leaving Tom in peace but leaving with an absurdly wealthy grandfather, that made him frown with bitter jealousy. Why should a boy who had almost had him  _raped_  get to strut off into a life of luxury while Tom had to stay in this dreadful place?

He fiddled with the corner of Gisela's latest letter, thankfully containing far more content as requested, and retreated to his bed to reread the letter. With Billy Stubbs gone, the frustration and anger had faded and left him only in sadness. Every morning he woke expecting his friend to be breathing softly on his shoulder but found himself cold and lonely. He hoped he would gain some sanity back now that his tormenter had departed, and Gisela's letters were longer.

_Dearest Tommy,_

_I cannot express how horrified and guilty I was reading your letter. I hope that nasty boy has left and you are safe. The Sergeant will pay for his crimes one day, no need to worry. Karma eventually bites us all, no matter how long it takes._

_Durmstrang is proving to be a fantastic school. The first-year subjects are Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, History of Magic and our 'lessons', that consist of singing, languages and ballet for girls. Unfortunately, it seems the German Wizarding World is as far behind on Women's Rights as Britain is. All this talk of marriage as though it is our only path in life, yet I laugh after all that talk in my room; I'm never getting married. I have decided to put my effort into my study, and I am clearly top of the class for my stream._

_Hogwarts curriculum is somewhat the same, apparently, but instead of Dark Arts they teach 'Defense', and Astronomy and Divination are subjects - a load of horseshit about reading palms and crystal balls like they do at the circus, and frowned upon here at Durmstrang. They also have houses, which I mentioned before, that separate you by personality; Gryffindor for the Brave and Glorious, Ravenclaw for the Wise, Hufflepuff for the Loyal and Just and Slytherin for the Ambitious and Cunning. Having read deep into the descriptions, I have no doubt you fit the Slytherin traits - as do I._

_The only problem with the Slytherin house is they are very... prejudice. Unlike Durmstrang, Hogwarts accepts students with parents who are both Muggles, and there is a sort of 'elite' society that is very anti-Muggleborn, who are mainly in Slytherin house. I looked up 'Riddle', and the surname isn't on the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' Pureblood list, nor is there any record in the Durmstrang library. I'm sure there is something in the Hogwarts library, but perhaps we should establish a 'German' identity for you to avoid anything going wrong. No one will think you're any less than half-blood in Slytherin house - which you aren't based on your ability to speak to snakes - but I worry about them thinking you have some Muggle heritage and it being like the orphanage. If they question you, we have all the proof you need; your sister goes to Durmstrang. We obviously will need to elaborate on this story, but it would be a settling start._

_As for my fellow classmates, which are all girls as they separate genders here, we were right in thinking they would be a bunch of spoilt pampered children with lovely childhoods. I have only made one real friend here, a Russian girl called Olga, and she is all I need for company. I think you would actually tolerate her presence. She is the only Russian here and grew up in Paris. For some reason, she is quiet about her own childhood, as I am, although she does have some family. Why she attends here, and not Beauxbatons or Koldostoretz, remains a mystery._

_Unfortunately, it has become painfully obvious how much skinnier and smaller I am than the other girls, and I often get stares because of it. No one has tried to openly bitchy to me at least, but I feel as though that will change over the years. Thankfully, I am starting to fill out with all these unnecessary feasts of food._

_I have enclosed a package with some old spare copies I found of an introduction to Charms and History of Magic. I will send two at a time for the subjects, as I wouldn't want to stress the owl anymore with the weight. They are all in German, so you will just have to suck it up and improve your language. At least you don't have to learn French as well as trying to keep up with German like I am. I've had to ask Klaus multiple times how to write essays correctly in German, a struggle you won't have to face mister._

_With love,_

_Gisela._

Tom had spent the last few days devouring the contents of the books, circling the areas most of interest to him with a broken pencil so that Gisela may send him more information on the particular subjects. He spent days hiding in his room only appearing for meals, with only a few school classes taking place as most days the teachers taught at the local public school, which was overflowing too much to accept the orphans in. Tom suspected it was more to do with the government not caring for educating the poor past their numbers and letters. Had he not discovered he was a Wizard, he would be expecting to be working in the factories or the docks by fourteen or join the armed forces at eighteen. He would never have belittled himself to such worthlessness though, even if Professor Klaus hadn't had come knocking. Tom understood at a very young age that the only way to survive in this world was with power, and he would stop at nothing to gain it.

The History of Magic textbook and Gisela's letter had also informed him that in the Wizarding World, there was also a power hierarchy formed by ability, wealth and, unfortunately, blood status. The matter of his parentage had always been a touchy subject, as an orphan, and while Gisela had discovered half of hers so quickly, it seems he was not so lucky. His father must have been a 'half-blood' or 'muggle-born', as his surname does not belong on the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'. As an orphan with no history to his heritage, he would have to make up an identity that would help him climb the ladder in a world of chaos.

His hours of peace were interrupted by a loud rapping on the door, and reluctantly Tom rose from his bed to click it open. There, in all her glory, stood Amy Benson. She sneered down at him, Dennis Bishop stood quivering at her side, raising her chin to appear superior.

"Now that Billy has left, things will go back to normal. I am in charge again, and I want to remind you of your place here," she snarled.

"Oh, I am very aware of my place, Benson. I am in control, and you are the dirt under my feet," he spat back at her.

"Be careful -" she began to exclaim with rage, only to be interrupted.

"It is you that should be careful, Benson. Do you really think what happened to Billy was an accident?" he smirked, looking up at her darkly through his long eyelashes. Her smile faltered, eyes narrowing at him.

"You should know not to try any -"

"You don't get to order me around, scum," he spat, attempting to close the door but prevented by her hand shooting out.

"Would you like Dennis and me to call for the Sergeant -"

_Slap!_

Amy gasped at the contact, being the first to receive physical revenge from Tom in a very long time. He grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling her to her knees and forcing her face up to look directly into his coal black eyes. Dennis backed away into a corner in fear, wanting to avoid the wrath that Tom had just unleashed.

"I am going to make this very clear, bitch, stay the fuck away from me, or there will be hell to pay," he seethed, "and there is nothing I love like sweet revenge. It took one stunt to have Billy knocked from his high horse, and understand that while he bothered me badly, it was only for three months. I have had to put up with your scheming for my entire life, and I will make sure you pay for it. I won't do anything now, nor anytime soon if you play your cards right, but one day when you think you are safe and happy, suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth and you will know the debt has been paid."

He threw her to the floor and slammed the door in her face, threatening to burst with magic as he thought of the insufferable girl who had caused such nuisance to him and such torment to Gisela. He knew that while Billy had to be dealt with quickly, he would have more time to plan his next endeavour carefully. He wanted to horrify that bitch and her lapdog truly and knew the orphanage was no place for his ideas without getting caught and sent to an asylum. No, he would have to wait.

News had spread throughout the children that morning that in May the following year there would be an outing to the coast, where the orphans could enjoy a day at the beach sponsored by some rich man's charity work - not that the orphans cared if it was for the man's personal gain in reputation and not at all from the heart. They would enjoy a day in nature by the beach, with all the freedoms in the world to enjoy themselves.

It was the perfect opportunity for an accident. 


	11. Trivial Tarts

**November 1936.**

**_Durmstrang Institute._ **

_ Gisela _

The distressing reports that Gellert Grindelwald had recruited many members in senior positions in the German and Austrian Ministries for Magic did not seem to faze many students over breakfast in the last Saturday of November. They were all too excited at the first signs of snow, ready for a white Christmas filled with a dozen great feasts and gifts to celebrate what had previously been a terrifying time of year for Gisela. The vivid memory of curling up tightly next to Tom in front of their faulty fireplace, freezing in the winter air with no proper blanket to protect them was not easily forgotten. She stared at the newspaper in front of her, intensely reading the updates regarding Grindelwald's bold claims at his latest gathering of followers, plastered across the front page of the German Wizarding Times, which noted that Grindelwald also spoke out about the growing tensions in the Muggle world with Mussolini aligning Italy with Hitler, which he says is another sign of a war to come. The First World War had affected the Magical community deeply, and the thought of another war was the perfect persuasion the man needed to recruit followers into his 'Magic Army'.

"I don't understand why people aren't worried about any of this," she muttered quietly to Olga, who was busy elegantly stuffing her face with crepes.

"Why would they? I bet you over half the student's parents are involved with Grindelwald. I think he's an idiot who underestimates the power of Muggles," Olga replied, carefully keeping her voice quiet.

"Half the students? Christ. Do they really think a man who currently rules Germany with an iron fist and a significant army with deadly weapons, even to Wizards, is going to put up with people like Grindelwald trying to rule over the Nazis?" Gisela whispered, shocked at such ignorance.

"Germany is bad enough. Try those child-slaughtering Soviets, and they'll be rounded up and shot," Olga hissed quietly.

Gisela nodded her head in agreement, continuing to read on about the propaganda spread by Grindelwald as she finished her breakfast and headed to the library, for her designated 'quiet time' she needed each week. It was often when she'd write letters to Tom and research Magical history more in depth. She became fascinated with how tightly integrated the Magical community was with the Muggle only a century ago, with many famous Muggle historical figures being Wizards. Only two centuries earlier, the Muggle and Magical community were one and the same, with Wizards hiding their abilities but using them to their advantage. It made Gisela wonder if the monarchy was the lifeblood of Europe for a reason; that would spark a massive conspiracy.

Every week she would send Tom more books from the collection of second-hand books free to take from the libraries storage, where she would send him the majority of the first and second-year curriculum books she could get her hands on. She even managed to find an English print of ' _Hogwarts: A History_ ' in the storage rooms, which she avidly read and passed onto Tom soon after. She felt sorry for the poor owl who had to carry these books back and forth to England. How they flew so quickly, she would never know.

Olga had proved to be all the company she needed and accepted her level of privacy required to feel comfortable at the school. The girl, although very obnoxious and outspoken, was a loyal and charming friend who bonded with Gisela over their political ideas that other girls wouldn't care about or agree with. It became quite clear early on that Olga disliked Grindelwald, and was an avid hater of Russia's current situation, both Muggle and Magical. They were also supporters of Woman's Rights and found the separation of the sexes at Durmstrang was insulting. However, as much as Gisela enjoyed Olga's company, she would never replace Tom in her heart.

She made her way back to the common room at dusk, strolling through the empty corridors as the pink sky reflected off the polished wooden floors, creating a peaceful ambience she so rarely enjoyed. Her deep red velvet cloak flowed behind her in stark contrast with the mellow colourings of the upper outer corridors of the castle. Having spent the day in the library, she began to crave the company of her soft feather bed and so gave in to the call of her tired eyes. As she approached the girl's common room, she heard an annoying high-pitched voice echoing through the hallway, and it only took the word 'ballet' for Gisela to know who was talking.

It became apparent to Gisela quite quickly that ballet was the single most crucial aspect of a young lady's life at Durmstrang. Most of her classmates had been having lessons since they could walk, and it seemed to be the main topic of all of their conversations during class. The end-of-year show was the highlight of the year for most girls, even if they would not have any specific roles until at least their fifth year. It was odd to Gisela, as she always thought ballet was Muggle and more French and Russian, rather than a Wizarding activity and German. Olga had explained that over a century ago, Koldovstoretz had performed at an international school gala against Beauxbatons in a prestigious show-against-show competition and won against the French, who had never lost since the competitions origins. A great rivalry was born, but Durmstrang wanted to join, and so they began to train their students. Durmstrang could never match either school, however, until the Russian Revolution when so many Wizards fled Russia - including Madame Petrova - and relocated in Germany and France. Koldovstoretz hadn't participated in the gala since 1916, and so Durmstrang took its place as Beauxbaton's rival.

Unfortunately, Gisela was quite behind in ballet, even if she managed to blend in by standing behind Olga in class. It seemed to come quite naturally, but she knew next year when they were put on pointe that would change, and Eva Schindler couldn't help reminding her classmates how much she was than them as she already had practised on pointe at her manor at home. The brat that reeked of entitlement had gotten on Gisela's nerves one too many times with the snarky remarks about her body and height in class, and hearing her brag across the common room was enough to make her nearly snap her quill.

"Oh, I cannot wait until I am old enough to be a soloist! I'm going to be the best White Swan there has been, the year the do Swan Lake, of course," she smirked, tilting her chin up proudly.

"Oh, but wouldn't you rather be the Black Swan, Eva, she has the harder steps. She has to do 32 fouettés!" said Charlotte Braun, trying to fit in with her superior friend.

"I could do it, obviously, but who wouldn't want to be the Swan Princess," she insisted but looked slightly uncomfortable at her friend's contradiction.

Olga glanced up across at Gisela as she entered the common room, taking a seat across from her and then to the girls across the other end of the room, gripping the side of her book rather tightly as she attempted to hold in a retort she wanted to throw at the irritating brat. Gisela looked worriedly at her friend, who was far brasher when annoyed than Gisela was.

"Obviously, I would be the Sugar Plum Fairy in the Nutcracker-"

"Would you please refrain from boasting about what roles you're going to dance years from now when you can't even land a single pirouette?" Olga exclaimed across the room, making the student's chatter fall silent, and all eyes fall on her. Eva looked shocked, as though the comment had struck her like lightning, and slowly regained composure.

"Oh, and what would you and your stick small friend know about ballet?" retorted Olga, "I've been trained by -"

"I don't care who tries to fix your turn-out, nor about the long list of excuses you will make. Do not boast about what you cannot do. You know nothing of Gisela, and I's personal lives so what would you know about our knowledge of ballet? I am Russian, you know," she snorted, before grabbing her friend's hand and almost dragging her out of the room and away from the dreadful bitching.

Gisela was slightly dazed my her friend being so upfront when she was so used to having to respond in the shadows to her bullies back at the orphanage. Olga had proven herself to be quite outspoken in many situations over the past month and had outwardly expressed her disdain for Eva Schindler multiple times. It became clear who the dominating personality of the pair was early on, and Gisela was rather thankful that someone else could handle the revenge without her having to lift a finger. She had no time for childish snobs being catty to each other.

"Olga, you can stop dragging me now. Remember my stride is half as long as yours," she laughed, making Olga drop her sleeve.

"Oh, I'm sorry Gisela. She just gets on my nerves all the time. Honestly, listening to her talk about ballet when a Kschessinska is in the room is infuriating!" she exclaimed, slamming the door of her room open and motioning Gisela inside.

"Kschessinska?" Gisela muttered, rather lost.

"Kschessinska... Kschessinskaya..." she raised her eyebrows, as though Gisela was dumb, "oh, I forgot you're not Russian. We add a 'ya' to the end of our names if we are female in the East. The point is, I am from a long line of ballet enthusiasts, and hearing Eva talk about 'her tutors' makes me angry. My grandmother was Russia's first  _Prima Ballerina Assoluta_ , and she thinks - nevermind."

Gisela was curious as to why Olga had halted the conversation so quickly, raising suspicions that had been growing over the past month as to her friend's secret past. Gisela hadn't had anything particularly interesting to say regarding her history and family, even if she kept it secret, but Olga seemed incredibly devoted to her family and country in an odd sort of way.

"Olga, by chance, did your family flee Russia during the revolution?" she asked softly. Her friend's face paled, and she looked wide-eyed at her friend.

"I have never stepped foot in Russia, Gisela. Of course, they had to flee from those monsters."

"I understand it must be difficult -"

"You have no idea how hard it has been," retorted Olga.

"Olga, I may not understand your specific difficulties but -"

"Why does everyone think they've had as hard of a life as me?" growled Olga, not watching her words in such an enraged mood. Gisela's face remained indifferent, but inside she went cold.

"You should watch your words more, Olga, you might be caught out one day with that temper," she warned, a subtly hard undertone to her voice.

**Keep your eyes wide open in this chapter, as it contains subtle hints to the answers of many questions and future events ;)**


	12. Dusk

**Christmas Day, 1936.**

**_Durmstrang Institute._ **

_ Gisela _

It was Christmas Day 1936; the great lake of Durmstrang had frozen over completely, the mountains looking down upon it now covered in thick powdery snow, and the winter sky created a white-out across the school’s grounds that prevented the students from exiting the castle. Gisela had awoken at the brink of dawn, as usual, enjoying the silence of the library at such an early hour, empty of any chattering students. Gisela was the only first-year student who remained at the castle over the holidays, everyone else returning to their homeland for Christmas celebrations - including Olga. She was thankful for their absence, however, as it gave her time to wander the castle exploring its abandoned classrooms and empty corridors, or make conversation with the oldest of paintings.

Tensions had been growing in the Muggle world and were beginning to worry even the Magical community. King Edward VIII had abdicated after less than a year of being in power, all for some Muggle American divorce. Many German student’s younger brothers living in the Muggle world had now been forced into joining the Hitler Youth, and the Nazis were increasing conscription, trapping many half-blood wizards who were not protected by the Wizarding Communities secrecy like most Purebloods. The behaviour of the Nazis had only increased the support for Grindelwald, with many Wizards fearing for their children’s lives at the prediction of an upcoming war. Suddenly, the dark Wizard’s ideas were becoming more and more rational in the minds of paranoid parents.

Once Gisela finished her morning routine, she headed to her uncle’s office in the tallest turret of the castle. After a long climb, she opened the door without knocking; her uncle now used to her barging in when she wanted to hide from her classmates on, particularly bad days.

“Hello niece, Merry Christmas!” he smiled, leaning back on his chair, dressed in a uniform she had not seen him in for months; the defining red swastika armband illuminated in the dimly lit room.

“Uncle, why are you wearing that uniform?” she frowned, rubbing the velvet of her cloak between her fingers.

“I was off on some business - a side job of mine. I mentioned on our journey earlier this year that I am infiltrating the Nazis, did I not?”

“You did, but you didn’t tell me why,” she responded, rather concerned.

“To make sure we are always two steps ahead of the Nazis,” he stated.

“And on whose behalf are you doing this?” she inquired.

“I am doing this for my cousin,” he muttered, much quieter than more.

“You’re working for  _him_? Why on earth would you prefer Gellert Grindelwald over a bunch of Muggles?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock at the revelation.

“If you think Gellert is worse than Hitler than you are very misinformed,” he said, his demeanour far darker than it had ever been before, putting Gisela on edge. “I would far rather my delusional cousin rule the world in a heartbeat than let that bastard rule Germany for a second longer.”

Gisela watched as he gripped the edge of his chair, his jaw tighten with anxiousness and his foot tap the floor to restrain himself from exploding in anger. It reminded her of Tom when Amy Benson would tease her in the courtyard, or the matron refused to give her more food.

“I don’t see what’s so horribly wrong with the Nazis. I didn’t see any starving children on our way to Berlin, unlike where I’m from,” she frowned, confused at her Uncle’s reaction.

“Gisela,” he sighed, leaning forward, rubbing his fingers over his forehead in frustration, “it as not as simple as starving children. You have no idea how dangerous the ideals of the National Socialists are, and how many people have suffered and will continue to suffer under this regime. Do not underestimate what these people are capable of.”

“I still do not understand why you prefer Grindelwald over Hitler, considering he intends to enslave the Muggle world, but I’ll take your word for it,” she sighed, not convinced.

“One day, when you’re old enough to understand, I’ll tell you a story about what Adolf Hitler is truly capable of,” he replied, cracking his knuckles,” but for now, it is Christmas and not a time for such conversation.”

“Yes, I suppose it is Christmas day. I’m not entirely sure why there are so many trees and decorations in the castle; however, it does make everything look rather nice,” she chuckled.

“What do you mean? It’s Christmas!” he smiled.

“All Christmas meant at the orphanage was a scrap of meat if we were lucky, even some fruit in the recent years. The idea of have expendable money to buy unnecessary gifts for the sake of it is foreign to me,” she replied, making her Uncle’s smile fall from his face.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t think of that. However, I did get you a few presents, so you will just have to suffer,” he jested, levitating a stack of colourfully wrapped gift boxes onto his desk.

“These are all for me?” she exclaimed.

“Of course! Now, we should begin unwrapping this tower,” he laughed, amused at her reaction to such a small selection of gifts compared to what he received as a child.

The rest of the morning was spent unwrapping the gifts, eating Christmas food and talking about Muggle novels they both enjoyed. Pride and Prejudice, most notably, although it was clear to Klaus that there were parts of the story Gisela was not yet old enough to understand. It was odd to think of her as a child sometimes when she spoke with a wisdom well beyond her years.

Gisela was thoroughly pleased with her collection of gifts. She had received an extensive collection of books, some new ribbons for her hair and a beautiful jewellery box, with a pop up enchanted ballerina inside, dancing with enthusiasm every time the box was open. Her favourite gift, however, was a small gold necklace, with a symbol of the deathly hallows as its charm. Despite the charm’s association with Grindelwald and his army, the  _Tale of the Three Brothers_ was a favourite of hers.

“If you’re ever in danger, niece, you need only grip the charm tightly, and I will appear shortly after. Wear it at all times in the Muggle world, or I fear what could happen if you are left to your own devices again,” he insisted.

She listened to his advice but hid the charm underneath her blouse in fear of drawing attention to its notorious other meaning, not wanting to associate herself with that dreadful man who was partially responsible for her existence.

*

_Dear Tommy,_

_I confess that despite your absence, I’ve been having such tremendous fun here with the school empty of almost all the students. Unfortunately, England is too far to travel to for such a short period, so I had to remain here instead of visiting you. Christmas celebrations at Durmstrang were incredibly extravagant, with the whole castle decorated with what must be over ten thousand pounds worth of decorations. I can’t imagine even the new King had such extraordinary decorations at Buckingham Palace. It is beautiful, indeed, but it would pale in comparison to seeing you even for five minutes._

_It is the dawn of 1937, and with such tensions in both worlds, I fear what is to come in the following years. I have an underlying feeling the world around us is going to fall apart slowly, and then all at once; like there is a bomb at the end of this burning fuse. I don’t think my classmates understand how much we are all skating on thin ice, but I find most children our age are too distracted with their own lives to sit back and observe what is falling apart in front of their eyes. For someone turning twelve today, I pride myself in my ability to create rather amateur philosophical quotes on demand._

_Your birthday present, as much as we both hate the meaningless celebration, is this letter written in English. I have so much to fill you in on, but that will have to wait for the next letter, as Leo Tolstoy’s ‘War and Peace’ is calling me from the library. I’m serious - I can hear the words screaming for my eyes._

_Enclosed is your Christmas present, a book about the Great War and how it affected the Magical community. Uncle Klaus gave it to me, but I read it in one night and decided you must have a taste of this epic._

_All the love,_

_Gisela._

The twelve-year-old girl sent her letter and gift out the owlery window as the clock struck midnight, the castle bells ringing to signify the beginning of a new year. The night’s cold crisp air reddened her cheeks, her breath a cloud of fog in front of her as she stared out at the fireworks on the lake from the open turret. In her hands, she held a book so large her fingers could barely wrap around the spine. She flicked her fingers through the English text to the chapter she was up to, sitting on a small table surrounded by owls as colourful lights reflected off the pages while loud bangs of fireworks echoed across the mountain range.

Suddenly, the most strange sensation overcame her. At first, the bangs were erupting from the fireworks display, but then the bangs became canon shots, the Napoleon Russian war appearing before her eyes as the text came alive in her eyes, but then the scenery switched. She was in London - she could tell by the familiar sight of the Thames - and it was burning all around her. Bangs erupted as houses were destroyed as aeroplanes whizzed in the sky above her, the night dark and full of terrorising sights. It had only been a few seconds before she was pulled back into the present moment, the final fireworks falling slowly from the sky as the full moon disappeared behind a cloud, engulfing the scenery in darkness.

Whatever had just occurred, Gisela felt an unexplained feeling of dread fill her heart as 1937 began, and she was sure this was the beginning of the end.

**Gisela’s vision in the final paragraph of this chapter is the beginning of a vital part of her characterisation. Take note of what it might mean for both her character and the story.**


	13. The Cave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of 'Part 2' in the year 1937. Things are going to really start to pick up in this part. Remember to leave comments below!

**May 1937.**

**_Southern Coast of England._ **

_ Tom _

The engine of the old bus rumble as it made its way very slowly to the coastal road, London left behind far off in the distance. The orphans talked with excitement about everything they were going to do on their first outing to the beach, enjoying the spring air blowing through the windows of the vehicle as the smell of the sea became more and more prominent. The only child who seemed thoroughly unamused by the prospect of the beach was Tom Riddle, who sat at the back of the bus sulking. The last time the boy had been to the beach was many years ago, before the depression, when he was so little Gisela had to carry him into the shallows as she feared otherwise he would be washed away into the sea. This visit, however, he did not have the company of his dear friend and was reminded once again of the haunting loneliness of life without her.

At least the trip would be somewhat useful in other ways.

As the bus finally came to a halt, the children clambered out of the bus, escorted by their overworked nursemaids who were trying not to lose sight any of them. If any of the little ones accidentally got swept out and drowned they would lose their jobs. Tom exited last, keeping his eyes firmly set on his targets. The group set off down the narrow path through the sand dunes that led to the sandy beach, their loud voices echoing into the hills behind them. Tom followed behind, watching the older children disperse in a run with their caretaker's permission, making him lose sight of his two targets, who raced off down the path.

As the beach came into view, Tom couldn't help but marvel at nature's creation. It was a magical place. The cliffs on each end of the beach towered high, and the shoreline stretched for what seemed like miles in the low tide, the giant waves dumping with a thunder-like crash onto the beach. He watched his targets play in the whitewash, where a long time ago he jumped through the waves with Gisela, although the sea that day was much calmer than in the present. Tom smirked at how ironic it would be if the two children were swept out and drowned without any intervention on his part, but that wouldn't be as the fun as what he was about to do.

He slowly made his way down to the shoreline, being careful not to wade in any further than his bare ankles, intentionally close to both his chosen location and his targets. The wind blew his hair out of his face, and he felt light sea spray sprinkle his cheeks, his eyes looking out on the horizon intentionally. Now all he had to do was wait.

It didn't take much to provoke them, as within a minute he heard the snarky voice of Amy Benson behind him, Dennis Bishop stood silently by her side.

"Hey, freak! I hope you drown and leave us all in peace here," shouted Amy over the loud crashing of the waves.

"Even if I got swept out I wouldn't drown, Benson, because unlike you I have a purpose for living," he replied, his voice laced with torment.

"Prove it, Riddle. Show us all how you won't drown," she shouted back.

"I would, but then you would go running to the matron about it, and I would be blamed. Perhaps a different challenge, Benson?" he turned around, his hair blowing into his eyes as he faced away from the wind.

"You're scared, Riddle," she huffed.

"Oh really... I have a different challenge. You see that cave in the cliff over there? I'll climb all the way into the cave... but only if you come in with me," he smirked.

"Why? Are you too scared to go in alone?" questioned Dennis, who for the first time in months decided to speak up.

"I didn't know you had a voice, Bishop? Be careful; it might be gone as quickly as it came. Well, if we all go in, then none of us are cowards," he responded, "so, are you coming?"

Tom waded out of the sea and briskly made his way to the end of the sand where the rocks began. Carefully navigating his way across the boulders, avoiding the sharp points, he clambered his way to the gaping entrance. Behind him, he heard the puffs of the two children following him finally catching up, after many failed attempts at climbing into the cave's opening.

While the entrance stood tall, wide and intimidating, the cave very quickly turned into nothing but a narrow passage, that looked almost man-made, with no light to illuminate the darkness that seemed to swallow them in. Tom began to walk towards the entrance but noticed he wasn't being followed.

"What's wrong, Benson? Scared?" he taunted. The nervous expression morphed into one of feigned confidence.

"Not at all," she sneered back.

"Then, by all means, go ahead," he smiled, motioning her to go in front. Dennis looked terrified, but reluctantly followed his friend into the pitch black, arms held out in front of them to guide their path.

Tom watched as the darkness swallowed them, only following them after a minute or so. Unlike Amy and Dennis, he had an abnormal talent for sensing his surroundings and could make them out with his sharp eyes despite the entrance to the cave nothing but a small dot of light. Eventually, the cave turned a sharp corner and came to a large cavern where it seemed to end. Tom knew better. He could sense beyond the seemingly solid rock wall there was something else lurking. This place emitted an aura of darkness that filled him with a thrilling excitement.

"Dennis? Can we leave? I'm scared," whimpered Amy, echoing through the passage.

"I can't find the way back," cried Dennis.

"Where's Riddle? He tricked us into this!" she exclaimed.

Tom moved stealthily to the opposite end of the cavern, hiding in an alcove out of sight from his victims as they walked around with their hands out helplessly.

"I warned you, Benson," he muttered darkly, his voice echoing around the cavern, making his location unidentifiable.

"Riddle!" she screamed in fright. "Where are you? Get us out of here. This isn't funny! You never warned us at all!"

"Oh, I certainly did. You seem to have a bad memory, Benson," he tutted, careful not to reveal his location.

"What do you mean?" whimpered Dennis, in unison with Amy.

"Remember, 'one day when you think you are safe and happy, suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you will know the debt has been paid.' You're paying your debt, Benson."

A loud shrill filled the cavern as she collapsed with sudden pain, Dennis watching in horror. She grabbed her head in agony as terrifying images filled her head, dark feelings filling her soul as Tom poured his darkness into her mind. Her body twisted in unnatural ways as her brain suffered the mental torture Tom Riddle had been waiting so patiently to inflict. He was finally getting what he was owed. Dennis Bishop curled up in fear, but unbeknownst to him; he would not feel his friend's pain. Tom believed watching the consequences of those who crossed him was enough to warn the boy of how close he was to shattering the thin ice he was walking on.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Please! Stop! No! No! NO! NO!" her terrified shrieks were silenced, her figure now sprawled unconsciously on the rock floor, the thin layer of sand now blown to the edges of the cavern in piles with an unnatural gust of wind. Dennis gulped, frozen in silence as he found himself unable to move a single muscle.

"Take this as a warning, Bishop. Best not go running to the matron, like Benson does - or used to do. Of course, you couldn't say anything anyway. I didn't so much as lay a hand on either of you. Oh, how the world works in mysterious ways," he chuckled darkly. "I trust you can find your own way out after the little bitch awakes."

He made his way out of the cave, smiling as the crashing waves came into view as midday approached. Clambering down onto the rocks, he admired the little shellfish that rested in small pools, complimenting the picturesque landscape. He smiled to himself as he remembers how much Gisela enjoyed playing with the tiny fish all those years ago.

Amy Benson never spoke of what happened. She avoided him like the plague, suffering from chronic nightmares, clinging on helplessly to the matron's skirts until she was adopted later that year. Dennis Bishop developed a stutter so severe he could barely finish a sentence, and would never again sleep without a candle in his room. Neither would ever utter his name again.

**This is unedited but leave your thoughts in the comments.**

**I hope you agree with my assumption that in canon Tom's attack on Dennis and Amy was via legimency, as the cruciatius curse in unrealistic for a young untrained boy regardless of his talents.**

**This book is about to start its dark path. Please note the first twelve chapters are drafts and I will go back and improvement later on once I get the direction of this fanfic going.**


	14. Lighting the Fuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 begins with a bang, fast-forwarding to 1938, in the summer before Tom's first year at Hogwarts and Gisela's third year.

**TIME SKIP**

**July 1938.**

**_The Leaky Cauldron, London._ **

_Gisela_

The small sack of coins hit her palm with a delightful ' _clink_ ' as she received her weekly pay, coins that would be well spent in the upcoming weeks. Wiping her greasy hands on her apron, Gisela finished her days work at the thriving Wizarding Pub in central London and made her way upstairs to her room, where a quiet eleven-year-old boy would be waiting for her, no doubt with his nose buried in a book. The past two summers had been a relief for the boy, with Professor Klaus paying for their accommodation at the Pub, while this summer Gisela was considered old enough to help in the kitchen, earning a decent spending wage to fund their frugal lifestyle. It wasn't much pay, but it was enough to ensure that Tom would be able to afford his school supplies and stocked up their collection of books and potions in the process.

Unfortunately, Tom would have to return to the orphanage during the day in August, as he would have to wait patiently until whoever was to deliver his invitation to Hogwarts stopped by. He was not pleased. For the past two summers, he had the freedom of living with Gisela in London's Wizarding society, a blissful escape from that hellhole in the East End. However, Professor Klaus had wiped the memory of Gisela entirely from the orphanage occupants and insisted that Tom keep himself separate from her in the eyes of the British Ministry. No one could know she existed while Grindelwald remained the Wizarding World's greatest threat.

"Hello Tommy, I've finished my shift. What are you reading?" she asked, hanging her apron on a hook and sitting down to remove her shoes.

"It's a book called the  _Sacred 28 Pureblood Directory_. It lists all the Pureblood families of Britain in here, but I still can't find anyone under the name Riddle," he sulked, passing her the book.

"Well, I'm sure will find a clue somewhere. Are you still sure it was your father who was a Wizard?"

"He had to be Giselle, my mother died, and witches can't die in something as trivial as childbirth," he huffed.

"You don't know that, Tom. Well, if you're not going to investigate your mother, I will. And why have you given me a nickname? And not even the German pronunciation, but French?"

"You are free to investigate that weak woman, but I doubt you will find anything. And Giselle sounds more elegant in English, don't you think?"

"I suppose, but don't call me that around Professor Klaus. So, all we know is that your mother's father's name was Marvolo. I will start there," she said, kicking her feet up onto the bed and laying the book open in the dim candlelight. She doubted she would get through every noted pureblood family tree by the end of the night, but she would try.

By the time the answer came to her, however, Tom had fallen asleep, his face illuminated by Gisela's dying candlelight. He looked so innocent for a boy of twelve, and for a moment she almost forgot the atrocities he had inflicted on the orphanage children over the past two years while she was away. All of it could have been overlooked, had he not expressed his glee over the cave incident well over a year ago. For the first time in her life, she was truly disturbed.

Tom was not a kind child. He had never been. But then neither had anyone else who grew up in that nasty place. For the first nine years, she had been able to keep control and calm his temper, preventing anything truly drastic from happening. However, it seemed their two years of separation had taken a toll on his sanity, which she hoped would be deescalated at Hogwarts, where he could thrive. But her worry remained, having seen the state of Amy and Dennis after she returned from her first year for the last time to collect Tom. He was not an ordinary resentful orphan.

She blew the last candle out, tucking a feather into the book to save the page of  _House Gaunt_ before tucking into bed. She was drifting off into her thoughts, her eyes shut to the world when she suddenly heard a small  _crack._

And then another  _crack._

And another.

The room fell silent again for a moment, but then the floorboards began to creak, the sounds of footsteps passing her room. The groups of footsteps made their way down the stairs, from what she could hear, before the silence returned.

She let out a shaky breath she'd been holding, letting her limbs relax briefly before slowly and silently making her way over to Tom. She pulled back his blankets and shook him gently, pinching his cheeks briefly.

"Tom," she whispered as quietly as possible in his ear.

He began to grumble, rubbing his eyes in annoyance, only for Gisela to throw her palm over his mouth, making him jump awake. He stared at her with wide eyes, watching as she motioned her figure over her mouth, urging him to stay quiet.

"I heard people apparate right outside our door," she whispered by his ear. "They went downstairs, but I think something bad is going to happen. Stay silent; I'll get my wand."

He nodded at her, concern washing over him as he pulled a t-shirt over his chest and slipped on his shorts. She wrapped her red robe over her nightgown; wand gripped tightly in hand. Slowly tiptoeing across the creaky floorboards, they approached the door in silence. Cupping his hands over the door, Tom leaned his ear against the door to listen for any sound of breathing he could pick up on the other side. A handy trick he learnt at the orphanage.

Hearing that the coast was clear, Tom slowly turned the door handle and exited the room, Gisela close behind him. They slowly walked along the corridor to the open stairwell, that looked out over the pub's dining floor, hidden in the shadows out of the line of vision from the intruders below.

"Are you ready for this?" one man spoke, with a thick accent.

 _"Of course I am ready for this!"_ the other hissed back in German.

"Then don't be so paranoid. This will all go smoothly. The intention is to alert Muggles to the commotion. This is the entrance to the Magical world so naturally, this is the best place to tear to pieces," sneered the first man. "Grindelwald's orders, not mine."

"But how are we going to look if there are casualties? Isn't the purpose to save Wizarding kind, not destroy it?" a third companion spoke up, with a Scottish accent.

"As long as there are no children, the press won't care. Magical Britain is a fairly corrupt place, and the boss already has plenty of hidden influence in this godforsaken country," the man with the thick accent replied.

 _"But if there are children!"_  the paranoid German man exclaimed in a whisper.

"I doubt it. Let's get on with it," the first man spoke.

The three wizards moved about the floor, quietly shifting chairs and tables to clear way in the middle of the dining hall. Whatever they were doing, Gisela was terrified; Grindelwald had recked enough havoc on the continent already. She gripped Tom's hand, whispering as quietly as possible in his ear.

"We need to leave, Tommy."

He nodded but held his hand up to stop her from moving when the Scottish man spoke up.

"So this Muggle contraption, enhanced with magic, is supposed to somehow disable the most highly enforced wards in the Wizarding World and attract the attention of Muggles, breaking the Statue of Secrecy?" he muttered unconvinced. "None of us actually know fully how this thing works!"

"Well, it worked in Bulgaria, Roberts, so it must work here. Apparently, we just have to light the fuse here and -"

Gisela gasped, grabbing Tom quickly as she finally understood what was happening. They ran loudly down the corridor, reaching a window that looked out upon Diagon Alley, firmly sealed shut.

"Shit! Go after them! I'll deal with this!" they heard the man with the thick accent shout.

Gisela tried every spell she could to get the window open, but none had worked until two men barged around the corner of the hallway, shooting spells at them.

"Bombarda!" she screamed, making the glass shatter in fragments, digging into her face and Tom's skin, the boy unprotected by her enchanted cloak. Ignoring the pain and blood, they leapt out the window just in time, as the building exploded in a loud _bang_  and erupted in flames, and their persecutors were thrown from the window, their bodies on fire and already very dead.

They landed from the two-story fall with a crack, clearly having broken some bones in the process, but hobbled as fast as possible away from the growing flames, sheltering in a dark alley, gripping to each other for dear life.

 

**Hello readers, sorry I abandoned you for a bit! Had too much work to do :\ but back at it again now.**


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